THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 

From  the  collection  of' 
Julius  Doerner,  Chicago 
Purchased,  1918. 

395 

H114 


) 2-1] 


PAQB 

Thoughts  on  Society  and  the  Spirit  of  So- 


cial Observances..... 23 

Manners 27 


How  can  they  be  acquired  ? 

Different  means  investigated. 

Necessity  of  some  Guide. 

Ancient  and  Modern  Authorities  on  Manners. 

The  true  principle  of  Manners. 

What  is  Society? 

The  necessity  of  Social  Intercourse. 

Three  Classes  of  Bad  Society 38 

1 Low  Society^  distinguished  by  Familiarity. 
Anecdotes  of  Extreme  Familiarity  in  the  last 
lliree  Centuries. 

Familiarity  from  want  of  Respect;  from 
Coarseness;  from  Shyness;  from  Curiosity. 


10 


CONTENTS. 


2.  Vulgar  Society^  distinguished  by  pretension; 
Gentility;  Servility;  Overse.rupulousness; 
Assumption  of  Refinement  in  Language 


and  iL.  Habits 47 

8.  Dangerous  Society 55 


Sketch  of  English  Society  from  the  Six- 
teenth Century. 

Rise  and  present  position  of  the  Middle 
Classes. 


The  Requisites  op  Good  Society, 


64 


1. 

2. 

3. 

4. 


5. 


6; 


7. 


8. 

9. 

10. 


11. 

12. 

13. 

14. 


Good  Breeding. 

Education. 

Cultivation  of  Taste. 

Reason. 

The  Art  of  Speech. 

A Knowledge  of  English  Literature. 
Moral  Character. 

Temper. 

Hospitality. 

Good  manners. 

Birth. 

Wealth. 

Rank. 

Distinction. 


COOTENTS. 


11 


The  Spirit  op  Social  Observances 88 

The  Connection  between  the  Laws  of  C5iris- 
tianity  and  those  of  Society. 

Domestic  Position. 

Paterfamilias. 

The  Matron. 

The  Young  Married  Man. 

* The  Bachelor. 

The  Young  Lady* 

The  Art  of  making  On^s  self  Agreeable. 


CHAPTER  1. 

Phe  Dressing-Room.... 107 

Cleanliness. 

The  Bath:  Hot,  Cold,  and  Tepid. 

The  Teeth. 

The  Nails. 

Razors  and  Shaving. 

Beards,  Mustaches,  Whiskers* 

The  Hair. 


CHAPTER  IL 

ft 

The  Lady’s  Toilet 127 

Early  Rising. 

Cleanliness. 


12 


CONTENTS, 


Exercise 150 

Rouge  and  Cosmetics. 

The  Hair. 

Perfumes,  Toilet  Appliances,  &o. 


CHAPTER  III. 


Dress 163 

Fashion;  Appropriateness  to  Age;  to  Posi- 
tion; to  Place;  Town  and  Country;  on  the 
Continent;  to  Climate;  to  Size;  to  different 
Occasions. 

Extravagance. 

Simplicity. 

Jewelry. 

Maxims  for  Ornaments. 

Orders,  &c. 

Cleanliness  and  Freshness. 

Linen. 

Seasonable  Dress. 

Estimate  of  a Wardrobe. 

Morning  Dress  at  Home. 

Dress  for  Walking. 

Dress  for  Visits. 

Dress  for  Dinner  Parties. 

Dress  for  Evening  Parties  and  Balls. 

The  Hat. 

Well-dressed  and  Ill-dressed. 


CONTENTS. 


13 


Fast  Dressing 169 

Different  Styles  of  Dress. 

Sporting  Costumes. 

Hunting,  &c. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Lady’s  Dress 176 

The  Love  of  Dress. 

Extravagance,  Pecuniary,  and  in  Fashion. 

Modern  Dress,  Stays,  Tightness,  &c. 

Dress  and  Feeling. 

The  Ordinary  In-door  Dress. 

The  Ordinary  Out-door  Dress. 

Country  Dress. 

Carriage  and  Visiting  Dress. 

Evening  Costume  at  Home. 

Dinner  Dress. 

Evening  Party  Dress. 

Ball  Dress. 

Riding  Dress. 

Court  DreSs. 

CHAPTER  V. 

Accomplishments ...  20£ 


Their  Value. 
Self-defence — Boxing. 


CONTENTS. 


The  Sword  and  the  Fist 

Duelling. 

Field  Sports. 

Riding. 

Mounting. 

Assisting  a Lady  to  Mount. 

Driving. 

Dancing. 

Quadrilles. 

Round  Dances. 

Hints  on  Dancing. 

The  Valtz. 

Polka. 

Other  Dances. 

The  Piano. 

Music  in  General, 

Singing. 

Cards. 

Round  Games. 

Languages. 

Knowledge  of  Current  Affairs. 

Carving:  Hints  on  Carving  and  Helping. 
Soup. 

Fish. 

Joints  (Beef,  Mutton,  Lamb,  Veal,  Pork, 
Ham,  Venison). 

Animals  served  whole. 

Fowls,  Game,  Goose,  Turkey,  &c. 


CONTENTS. 


15 


CHAPTER  VL 

Feminine  Accomplishments 259 

Their  Necessity. 

Social  and  Domestic  Value. 

Music. 

Choice  of  Instruments. 

Singing. 

Age  a Restriction. 

Choice  of  Songs. 

Etiquette  of  Singing  and  Playing. 
Appropriateness. 

German  and  Italian  Singing. 

Working. 

Working  Parties  Abroad. 

Appropriateness  of  Work. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Manners,  Carriage,  and  Habits 270 

The  Necessity  for  Laws  of  Etiquette. 

Manner:  value  of  a good  on^. 

Rules  for  preserving  it. 

Self-respect. 

Affectation. 

Different  kinds  of  Manner  to  be  avoided. 


16 


CONTENTS. 


A change  of  Manner  demanded  by  circum- 
stances   2fiC 

Carriage. 

Dignity. 

Physical  Carriage,  and  how  a man  should 
walk. 

The  Smile. 

Vehement  action  to  be  avoided. 

Certain  Bad  Habits. 

Smoking  discussed. 

Etiquette  thereof. 

A Lecture  on  Eating  and  Drinking  at  Dinner, 
and  Habits  at  Meals. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Carriage  op  a Lady  298 

Its  Importance  to  the  Sex. 

Young  Ladies. 

Modesty. 

Agreeableness. 

Politeness. 

Dignity, 

Delicacy  of  Language. 

Temper. 

Fastness,  Flirting,  &c. 

The  Prude  and  the  Blue-Stocking 
Bearing  of  Married  Women. 


CONTENTS. 


17 


French  Manners ...•  309 

The  Physical  Carriage  of  Ladies, 

CHAPTER  IX. 

In  Public 311 

The  Promenade. 

The  ‘‘Cut.” 

Its  Folly  and  objectionable  character. 

Sometimes  necessary. 

Should  be  made  Inoffensively. 

Etiquetto  of  the  “ Cut.” 

The  Salute. 

Its  History. 

Different  Modes  of  Salutation. 

Kissing. 

Shaking  Hands. 

Various  Ways  of  doing  so. 

Walking  and  Driving  with  Ladies. 

Etiquette  of  Railway  Travelling. 

CHAPTER  X. 

In  Private 33€ 

The  Visit. 

Proper  Time  and  Occasions  for  Visiting. 
Introduction  by  Letters. 

Visits  of  Condolence  and  Congratulation. 


18 


CONTENTS. 


Hours  for  Visits 336 

The  Cards. 

Etiquette  in  Calling. 

Not  at  Home.” 

Visits  in  Good  Society. 

Visits  in  Country  Houses. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Dinners,  Diners,  and  Dinner-Parties 34J!i 

DINNER  PARTIES. 

By  whom  and  to  whom  given. 

Sdection  of  Guests. 

Their  Number. 

The  Dining-Room. 

Its  Furniture  and  Temperature. 

The  Shape  of  the  Table. 

Lighting. 

The  Servants. 

The  Russian  Mode  of  Laying  the  Table. 

What  to  put  on  the  Table. 

Soup. 

Wine  and  its  Etiquettes. 

Fish. 

The  Joint. 

Vegetables. 

The  Order  of  Serving. 


CONTENTS. 


19 


Salad » 355 

Grace. 

Dinner  Etiquette. 

Punctuality,  &o. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Ladies  at  Dinner SGC 

Invitations. 

Whom  to  Invite  and  whom  not. 

The  Reception  of  Guests  by  the  Lady. 

Order  of  Precedence. 

Of  Proceeding  to  the  Dining-Room. 

The  Ladies  Retire. 

The  Ladies  in  the  Drawing-Room. 


CHAPTER  XHI. 

Balls 378 

Their  Place  in  Society. 

The  Invitations. 

Whom  to  Invite. 

The  Proper  Number. 

The  Requisites  for  a Good  BalL 
Arrangement  of  the  Rooms, 
lighting. 

The  Floor. 

The  Music. 


20 


CONTENTS. 


Refreshments 390 

The  Supper. 

Ball-Room  Etiquette. 

Receiving  the  Guests. 

Introductions. 

The  Invitation  to  Dance. 

Ball-Room  Acquaintance. 

Going  to  Refreshments  and  Supper. 

Manners  at  Supper. 

Flirtation. 

Public  Balls. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Moening  and  Evening  Parties 39? 

* 

‘^Making  a Party.” 

Town  Parties  (Receptions,  Private  Concerts, 
Amateur  Theatricals,  Tea-Party,  Matinees). 
General  Rules. 

Country  Parties  (Evening  Parties,  Outdoor- 
Parties,  and  Picnics). 

General  Rules. 


Marriage 


CHAPTER  XV. 


414 


Offers. 

Engagements. 


CONTENTS. 


21 


Marriage  Contracts  and  Settlements, 
The  License. 

The  Trousseau. 

The  Bridesmaids. 

Invitations. 

The  Lady’s  Dress. 

The  Gentleman’s  Dress. 

Going  to  the  Church. 

The  Ceremony. 

The  Breakfast. 

Travelling  Dress. 

Fees  to  Servants. 

Presents,  &c. 


THOUGHTS  ON  SOCIETY, 

AND  THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


A SERMON  and  a book  of  etiquette  have  been  taken  as 
the  antipodes  of  literature.  Most  erroneously  ! The  one 
is  a necessary  appendix  to  the  other ; and  the  missionary 
of  the  South  Sea  Islands  would  tell  you  that  it  is  useless 
to  teach  the  savage  religion  without  the  addition  of  a few 
rules  of  courtesy.  On  manners,  refinement,  rules  of  good 
breeding,  and  even  the  forms  of  etiquette,  we  are  for  ever 
talking,  judging  our  neighbors  severely  by  the  breach  of 
traditionary  and  unwritten  laws,  and  choosing  our  society 
and  even  our  friends  by  the  touchstone  of  courtesy.  Wo 
are  taught  manners  before  religion ; our  nurses  and  our 
parents  preach  their  lay  sermons  upon  them  long  before 
they  open  for  us  the  Bible  and  the  Catechism ; our  domi- 
nies flog  into  us  Greek  verbs  and  English  behavior  with 
the  same  cane ; and  Eton  and  Oxford  declare  with  pride, 
that  however  little  they  may  teach  their  frequenters,  they 
at  least  turn  them  out  gentlemen.  Nay,  we  keep  a grand 
state  olfieial,  with  a high  salary,  for  no  other  purposes 
than  to  preserve  the  formal  etiquette  of  the  Court,  and  tc 
issue  from  time  to  time  a series  of  occasional  services  i; 

(23> 


24 


THE  SPIRIT  or  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


which  the  minutest  laws  of  courtly  behavior  are  codified 
with  majestic  solemnity. 

Yet  with  all  this  and  much  more  deference  which  wc 
show  now  to  manners  in  general,  now  to  the  arbitrary  laws 
if  etiquette  which  seem  to  have  no  object  but  exclusive- 
ness, we  are  always  ready  to  raise  a titter  at  the  attempt 
to  reduce  the  former  to  a system,  or  codify  the  latter  for 
the  sake  of  convenience.  The  polished  affect  to  despise 
the  book  of  etiquette  as  unnecessary,  forgetting  that,  in 
the  present  day,  the  circles  of  good  society  are  growing 
fider  and  wider,  admitting  repeatedly  and  more  than  ever, 
men  who  have  risen  from  the  cottage  or  the  workshop,  and 
nave  had  neither  their  training  nor  their  experience. 
'Vhat  if  railway  kings  and  mushroom  millionaires  had 
ftudied  their  grammars  and  manner-books  in  the  respites 
from  business,  would  the  noble  lords,  who,  with  their  wives 
nd  daughters,  condescended,  nay,  were  proud,  to  dine 
with  the  quondam  shop-boy  and  mechanic,  have  thus  been 
sneered  at  by  the  middle  classes  for  a worship  of  gold, 
which  could  induce  them  to  put  up  with  gross  vulgarity, 
and  for  a respect  for  success  which  could  allow  the  great- 
est sticklers  for  etiquette  U endure  its  repeated  neglect? 
Surely  it  is  in  the  interest  of  future  premiers  and  noble 
members  of  council,  that  John  Smith  should  know  how  to 
behave  before  they  visit  him ; and  how  can  he  possibly 
learn  it  without  either  a tutor,  a book,  or  experience  ii% 
ociety  ? 

The  first  is  undoubtedly  the  best  medium ; and  we  con 
tantly  find  the  soijs  of  mannerless  millionaires  tutored 
mto  the  habits  of  good  society,  but  at  the  same  time  it  k 
a course  which  demands  youth,  time,  and  the  absence  of 
business  occupations ; but  everybody  at  first  sight,  agree? 


THE  CHAPLAIN  AND  THE  NUNCIO. 


2ft 


that  experience  in  society  is  the  only  good  way  to  acquire 
the  polish  it  demands.  True,  maybe ; but  if  it  demands 
diat  polish  in  you,  how  will  it  take  you  without  it  ? How 
3an  you  obtain  the  entrie  into  good  society,  when,  on  tlu: 
rery  threshold,  you  are  found  deficient  in  its  first  rules! 
How,  if  you  succeed  in  pushing  your  way  into  sets  which 
yju  believe  to  constitute  good  society,  can  you  be  sure 
that  they  will  tolerate  you  there  till  you  have  learned 
your  lesson,  which  is  not  one  to  be  known  in  a day  ? 
Your  failure,  indeed,  may  be  painful,  and  end  in  your 
ejectment  for  ever  from  the  circles  you  have  taken  so 
much  trouble  to  press  into. 

I remember  an  instance  of  such  a failure  which  occur- 
red many  years  ago,  in  a distant  European  capital.  The 
English  residents  had  long  been  without  a chaplain,  and 
the  arrival  of  an  English  clergyman  was  hailed  with  such 
enthusiasm,  that  a deputation  at  once  attended  on  him  and 
offered  him  the  post,  which  he  accepted.  We  soon  found 
^hat  our  course  was  a mistaken  one.  Slovenly  in  his 
dress,  dirty  in  his  habits,  and  quite  ignoiant  of  the  com- 
monest rules  of  politeness,  our  new  chaplain  would  have 
brought  little  credit  to  the  English  hierarchy  even  had  his 
manners  been  retiring  and  unobtrusive.  They  were  pre- 
cisely the  reverse.  By  dint  of  cringing,  flattery,  and  a 
readiness  to  serve  in  no  matter  what  undertaking,  he  push- 
ed himself,  by  virtue  of  his  new  position,  into  some  of  the 
highest  circles.  One  evening  it  happened  that  the  new 
chaplain  and  the  Pope’s  nuncio  were  both  at  the  same 
evening  party.  The  pontifical  legate  went  out  but  little, 
and  the  lady  of  the  house  had  used  great  exertions  to 
procure  his  presence.  The  contrast  between  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  two  Churches  was  trying  for  us. 

2 


26 


laE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


cardinal,  grave,  dignified,  and  courtly,  recede/.  Ibe  baI 
vances  of  those  who  were  introduced  to  hiiTi  as  his  due 
The  chaplain,  in  a frayed  and  dirty  shi'.c,  with  holes  m 
bis  boots  and  ill-combed  hair,  was  sneaking  up  to  tl'C 
andees  and  doing  his  best  to  gaiii  their  attention  by 
smiles  and  flattery.  He  had  heard  somewhere  that  no  in- 
troductions were  needed  in  Continental  salons,  and  you 
can  imagine  our  surprise  when  we  saw  him  slide  sideways 
up  to  the  red-stockinged  nuncio,  tap  him  familiarly  on  the 
shoulder,  and  with  a full  grin  exclaim,  “ Well,  my  Lord^ 
how  did  you  leave  the  Pope  ? ” The  cardinal  bowed  and 
smiled,  but  could  not  conceal  his  astonishment.  The  fa- 
miliarity AYas  not  indeed  a crime,  but  it  proved  that  the 
offender  was  not  fit  for  the  society  into  which  he  had 
pushed  himself  ; and  the  legate,  glad  to  have  a story 
against  the  Protestants,  made  the  most  of  % and  repeat 
ed  it  until  the  new  chaplain  found  his  entree  to  the 
drawing-rooms  of  the  great  was  generally  cancelled. 

Useful  or  not  useful,  it  would  seem  that  codes  of  man- 
ners are  thought  ridiculous.  If  the  farce- writer  wants  to 
introduce  a thoroughly  credulous  country  girl,  he  makes 
her  carry  a little  book  of  etiquette  under  her  fan  into  the 
ball-room ; and  if  the  heavy-headed  essayists  of  a Quar- 
terly want  a light  subject  to  relieve  the  tedium  of  their 
trimestrial  lucubrations,  it  is  almost  sure  to  be  the  vadt 
mecums  of  etiquette  which  come  in  for  their  satire.  Poor 
indeed,  and  reduced  in  honor  as  well  as  capital,  must  be 
the  man  of  letters,  they  tell  you,  who  will  condescend  to 
write  on  the  angle  of  a bow,  or  the  punctilio  of  an  insult ; 
forg:itting  that  these  are  but  some  of  the  details  which  gc 
to  make  an  important  whole,  and  that  we  might  as  hon- 
estly sneer  at  the  antiquarian  who  revels  in  a dirty  coir 


THE  HIGHEST  AUTHORITIES  ON  THE  SUBJECT.  27 


of  the  size  of  a farthing,  or  the  geologist  who  fills  ah 
pockets  with  chips  of  ugly  stone.  However,  the  sneer  ia 
raised,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  speak  of  it. 

There  remain,  then,  three  reasons  for  holding  work^i 
if  this  sort  in  disrepute:  either  manners  themselves  ai; 
ontemptible,  or  they  are  not  a subject  worthy  of  the 
donsideration  of  the  wise  and  great ; or  the  books  of  eti- 
quette themselves  are  ridiculous  in  their  treatment  of  the 
subject. 

The  \ alue  of  manners  is  to  be  the  main  theme  of  this 
introduction ; as  regards  their  value  as  a subject,  I can 
only  point  to  those  who  have  discoursed  or  written  upon 
them,  and  I think  it  may  be  afiirmed  that  few  moral 
teachers  have  not  touched  on  the  kindred  subject.  Indeed 
the  true  spirit  of  good  manners  is  so  nearly  allied  to  that 
of  good  morals,  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  avoid  doing 
so.  Our  Saviour  himself  has  taught  us  that  modesty  is 
the  true  spirit  of  decent  behavior,  and  was  not  ashamed 
to  notice  and  rebuke  the  forward  manners  of  his  fellov 
guests  in  taking  the  upper  seats  at  banquets,  while  he  hati 
chosen  the  etiquettes  of  marriage  as  illustrations  in  seve- 
ral of  his  parables.  Even  in  speaking  of  the  scrupulous 
habits  of  the  Pharisees,  he  did  not  condemn  their  cleanli- 
ness itself,  but  the  folly  which  attached  so  much  value  to 
mere  form.  He  conformed  himself  to  those  habits,  and  is 
the  washing  of  feet  at  meals,  drew  a practical  lesson 
beautiful  humility.  His  greatest  follower  has  left  u 
many  injunctions  to  gentleness  and  courteousness  of  niat> 
aer,  and  fine  passages  on  women’s  dress,  which  should  U 
painted  over  every  lady’s  toilet  table  in  the  kingdom. 

As  to  the  philosophers,  who  are  anything  but  men  of 
l!Ood  manners  themselves,  there  are  few  who  have  not 


28 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


taught  behavior  more  or  less.  To  saj  nothing  of  th^ 
ijglj  but  agreeable  old  gentleman,  Socrates,  who  went 
about  the  city  asking  as  many  questions  as  a counsel  foi 
the  defendant  in  a case  of  circumstantial  evidence,  w?’ 
1 1 VQ  his  j upiPs  pupil  Aristotle,  whose  ethics  the  Oxford 
:oys  are  taught  to  look  upon  as  next  in  wisdom  to  th€ 
Bible,  ard  truer  than  any  similar  work.  We  are  con- 
vinced that  the  greater  part  of  the  ethics  might  be  turned 
into  a Guide  to  the  Complete  Gentleman.”  In  fact 
the  Stag/rite’s  morals  are  social  ones ; the  morals  that 
fit  a mau  to  shine  in  the  agora  and  the  academy.  He 
has  raired  the  peculiar  behavior  of  the  dialog  xdtyadog 
— alias  ‘‘gentleman” — to  his  equals,  betters,  and 
inferiois,  into  one  of  the  cardinal  virtues,  and  has  given 
us,  besides,  several  chapters  on  wit  and  conversation,  in- 
timacies, and  the  proper  carriage  of  a good  citizen  in 
society. 

But.  to  look  nearer  home,  Lord  Bacon  himself  has  de- 
voted an  essay  to  manners,  and  reminds  us  that  as  a pre- 
cious stone  must  be  of  very  high  value  to  do  without  a 
Stjtting,  a man  must  be  a very  great  one  to  dispense  with 
social  observances ; and  probably  Johnson  thought  him- 
self one  of  these  unset  gems,  when  he  made  such  speech- 
es as,  “ Sir,  you’re  a fool ;”  or  at  Aberdeen,  “ Yes,  sir, 
Scotland  is  what  I expected  ; I expected  a savage  coun- 
try, and  savage  people,  and  I have  found  them.” 

But  why  multiply  instances  ? If  we  look  to  the  satirist 
)f  aL  ages,  we  find  that  manners  as  well  as  morals  camt 
luder  their  lash,  and  many  taught  by  ridicule  what  we 
Jd  by  precept.  Horace,  the  Spectator^  and  Thackeray 
expose  the  vulgarities  and  affectations  of  society;  and  the 
finest  wit  of  his  day,  Chesterfield,  is  the  patron  saint  of 
the  writers  on  Behavior. 


FALSE  MOIIVES  FOll  POLITENESS. 


29 


We  have,  therefore, no  lack  of  precedent;  but  it  is  cer- 
tainly true  that  too  often  the  office  of  a teacher  of  inannerB 
Has  been  assumed  bj^  retired  Turvejdivps,  and  geritec 
nasters  of  ceremonies,  and  the  laugh  that  is  raised  at  their 
hints  on  propriety  is  not  always  without  excuse.  It  would 
be  very  bad  manners  in  me  to  criticise  the  \vorks  of  forme 
writers  on  this  subject,  and  thus  put  for^vard  my  owm  as 
the  ne  plus  ultra  of  perfection.  I confess,  indeed,  that  1 
can  never  aspire  to  the  delicacy  and  apparently  universal 
acquirements  of  some  of  these  genteel  persons.  If  I can 
tell  you  how  to  entertain  your  gue:ts,  I cannot  furnish  a 
list  of  cartes  for  dinners,  like  the  author  of  the  Art  oj 
Dining,  If  I can  tell  you  how  to  dance  with  propriety^ 
I must  despair  of  describing  the  Terpsichorean  inventions 
of  a D’Egville  ora  Delplanque.  or  of  giving  directions  for 
the  intricate  evolutions  of  one  hundred  and  one  dances,  of 
7 Inch  in  the  present  day  not  a dozen  are  ever  performed. 

I may,  however,  be  permitted  to  point  out  that  to6  many 
of  my  predecessors  have  acted  on  a wrong  principle.  I 
have  before  me  at  least  a dozen  books  treating  of  etiquette 
of  different  dates,  und  I find  that  one  and  all,  including 
Chesterfield,  state  the  motive  for  politeness  to  be  either 
he  desire  to  shine,  or  the  wish  to  raise  one’s  self  into 
society  supposed  to  be  better  than  one’s  own.  One  of  the 
best  begins  by  defining  Etiquette  as  a shield  against  the 
intrusion  of  the  impertinent,  the  improper,  and  the  ynp 
gar  another  tells  us  that  the  circles  which  protect  them- 
elves  with  this  shield  must  be  the  object  of  our  attack 
and  that  a knowledge  of  etiquette  will  secure  us  the  vic- 
tory ; others  of  higher  character  confound  good  with  high 
society,  and  as  a matter  of  course  declare  birth,  rank, 
distinction  as  its  first  requisites  All  of  them  make  i 


30 


rHE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


appear  that  the  cultivation  of  manners  is  not  a social  duty 
but  merely  a means  to  the  gratificat  on  of  personal  vanity, 
and  on  this  account  they  must  all  appear  ridiculous  to  ih^ 
man  of  sense. 

Good  society  is  undoubtedly  a most  desirable  accompa 
tiiment  of  the  business  of  life,  and  with  some  people  it  evo£ 
lakes  the  place  of  that  business  itself ; but  if  the  reader 
imagines  that  he  is  to  put  his  book  of  etiquette  into  liia 
pocke  t,  and,  quitting  his  old  friends  and  acquaintance  with 
disgust,  to  push  himself  into  sets  for  which  perhaps  his 
position  itself  does  not  qualify  him,  he  is  much  mistaken 
as  to  the  object  of  cultivating  the 'habits  of  good  society. 
His  proper  objects  are  these  : to  make  himself  better  in 
every  respect  than  he  is ; to  render  himself  agreeable  to 
every  one  with  whom  he  has  to  do ; and  to  improve,  if 
necessary,  the  society  in  which  he  is  placed.  If  he  can  do 
this,  he  will  not  want  good  society  long.  It  is  in  the  power 
of  every  man  to  create  it  for  himself.  An  agreeable  and 
polished  person  attracts  like  light,  and  every  kind  of  society 
which  is  worth  entering  will  soon  and  easily  open  its  doors 
to  him,  and  be  glad  to  have  him  in  its  circle.  Excl  isive- 
ness  is  often  a proof  of  innate  vulgarity,  and  the  tests 
applied  by  the  exclusive  are  generally  position,  birth,  name^ 
or  peculiarity,  rarely  indeed  individual  merit.  Whjrever 
these  limitations  are  drawn,  you  may  be  confident  of  a 
deficiency  in  the  drawers.  My  Lady  A — , who  will  haie 
no  one  under  the  rank  of  baronet  at  her  house,  can  scarcely 
'appreciate  the  wide  diffusion  of  wit  and  intelligence  among 
the  untitled.  Mr.  B — , who  invites  none  but  literal  y meii 
to  his,  must  be  incapable  of  enjoying  the  accomplisl  ments 
and  general  knowledge  of  men  of  the  world.  And  then, 
too  it  is  so  easy  to  b ^ exclusive,  if  you  are  content  to  he 


EXCLUSIVE  SETS, 


81 


iull,  Mj  University  tailor  had  a daughter,  whose  lowei 
he  announced  as  X30,000,  and  he  gave  out  that  none  but  a 
gold  -tassel  should  be  allowed  to  cultivate  her  acquaintance 
But  the  young  noblemen  never  came,  and  the  damsel  pined 
for  a couple  of  years.  The  father  widened  the  bounds,  and 
geiiileman-commoners  were  admitted,  but  still  the  maiden 
wras  unwooed.  Tn  another  three  years  the  suffrage  was 
extended  to  all  members  of  Christ  Church.  There  may 
have  been  wooers  now,  but  no  winners.  Five  years  more 
and  the  maiden  still  sat  at  her  window  unclaimed.  For 
another  five  years  the  ninth  part  of  a man  held  out  reso- 
lutely, but  by  that  time  youth  was  gone,  and  the  daughter 
BO  long  a prisoner  was  glad  to  accept  the  hand  of  an  aspir- 
ing cheesemonger. 

But  the  tailor’s  vulgarity  was  no  greater  than  that  of 
all  exclusive  sets,  who  ‘‘draw  the  line”  which  preserves 
the  purity  of  their  magic  circle,  with  a measure  of  rank, 
wealth,  or  position,  rather  than  the  higher  recommendations 
of  agreeable  manners,  social  talents,  and  elevated  character. 
The  dullness  of  the  coteries  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain 
is  equalled  in  this  country  only  by  that  of  certain  sets  tc 
be  found  in  most  watering-places.  A decrepit  old  lady  oi 
gentleman,  long  retired  from  fashionable  and  public  life,  is 
always  to  be  found  in  these  localities.  Surrounded  by  a 
small  knot  of  worshippers,  he  or  she  is  distinguished  by  a 
title,  a faultless  wig,  and  a great  love  of  whist,  and  the 
playful  sallies  of  my  loJi'd”  and  “ my  lady”  are  hailed  m 
qpdendid  wit,  or  their  petulant  tempers  endured  with  affeo« 
ioaate  submission.  How  much  Christianity  does  a nook 
in  the  peerage  encourage  ! What  a pity  there  is  not  a 
retired  nobleman  in  every  set  of  society,  to  put  our  for- 
bearance to  a perpetual  tival,  call  forth  our  broadest 


32 


TliE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


chanty,  and  train  us  at  the  whist-table  to  lose  our  guineas 
and  not  our  temper  ! 

Exclusive  society,  Avhetlier  the  passport  for  admittanot 
bo  of  rank,  birth,  wealth,  fashion,  or  even  more  meritorioiu 
distirKtioiis,  is  not  often  agreeable  society,  and  not  neces- 
sarily good.  The  question  at  once  arises  : What  is  gtf'’0»i 
society?  and  we  proceed  to  answer  it,  beginning  witli  an 
attempt  lo  define  society  itself. 

When  the  ex-King  Ludwig  of  Bavaria  stops,  as  we  have 
eeen  him  do,  to  exchange  a hearty  word  with  a crossing- 
sweeper,  one  of  a class  which  the  misnamed  First  Ger- 
cleman  of  Europe,”  while  returning  punctiliously  the 
marks  of  respect  shown  him  by  every  man  that  he  passed, 
thought  it  beneath  the  dignity  of  a monarch  to  notice,  no 
one  would  think  of  impeaching  the  sovereign  of  a love  of 
low  society.  If,  again,  a country  gentleman  chats  with  his 
gamekeeper  as  they  come  from  the  fields  together,  he  wdll 
perhaps  tell  you  that  he  has  enjoyed  the  honest  fellow’s 

society,”  but  it  will  be  in  the  tone  of  a joke.  Not  so 
nowever,  the  candidate  for  the  borough,  who  begs  the  in- 
fluential harberdasher  he  is  canvassing,  to  introduce  him 
to  his  wife  and  daughters,  whose  society  “ he  is  most  anxious 
to  cultivate.”  He  is  quite  aware  that  equality  is  the  first 
essential  of  society,  and  that  where  it  does  not  exist  in 
reality,  it  must  do  so  in  appearance. 

Nor  is  mere  equality  of  position  sufiicient.  It  seems  to 
be  a rule  in  the  intercourse  of  men,  that  the  employei 
should  rank  above  the  employed,  and  the  transaction  c 
business  suspends  equality  for  a time.  Tliere  is  no  society 
between  a gentleman  and  his  solicitor  or  physician,  in  an 
official  visit,  and  though  both  hold  the  same  rank,  the  pro- 
fessional man  would  never,  unless  further  advances  were 


WHAT  IS  SOCIETY  ? 


!Jttade,  presume  on  the  official  acquaintance  to  i^onsidcr  liim^ 
self  a member  of  his  patient’s  or  client’s  circle. 

Society  is.  therefore,  the  intercourse  of  persons  on  a 
footing  of  equality,  real  or  apparent.  But  it  is  more  ihaD 
■Ilk.  The  two  thoroughly  English  gentlemen  who,  irav 
lling  foi  two  hundred  miles  in  the  same  railway  carriagOj 
ensconce  themselves  behind  their  newspapers  or  shilling 
novels,  exchanging  no  more  than  a sentence  when  the  oik 
treads  upon  the  other’s  favorite  bunion,  cannot,  in  the 
widest  sense  of  the  phrase,  be  said  to  enjoy  each  other’s 
society.  The  intercourse  must  be  both  active  and  friendly. 
Man  is  a gregarious  animal ; but  while  other  animals  herd 
together,  for  the  purpose  of  mutual  protection,  or  common 
undertakings,  men  appear  to  form  the  only  kind  who  as- 
semble for  that  of  mutual  entertainment  and  improvement. 
But  in  society  properly  so  called,  this  entertainment  must 
address  the  higher  part  of  man.  Never  was  philosopher 
more  justly  put  down  for  narrowness  of  mind  than  Plato 
was  by  Diogenes  The  polished  Athenian  had  the  rash 
ness  to  define  man  as  a biped  without  feathers.  The  ill- 
mannered  but  sensible  philosopher  of  the  tub  plucked  a 
cock  and  labelled  it  Plato’s  Man.”  Man  is  not  wholly 
man  without  his  mind,  and  a game  of  cricket  in  which  men 
assemble  for  mutual  entertainment  or  improvement  is  not 
society,  since  it  is  the  body  not  the  mind  which  is  brought 
nto  action. 

Indeed  we  hear  people  talk  of  round  games  being  so 
uiable  and  it  is  certain  that  in  most  of  those  which  art 
pbyed  in  a drawing-room,  the  mind  is  made  to  work  ag 
well  as  the  fingers  ; but  while  such  games  undoubtcdlj 
excite  sociability  with  people  too  shy  or  too  stupid  to  talk, 
and  be  at  ease  without  their  assistance,  we  must  beware  of 
2* 


M THE  SPIllIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 

t'oiifoundmg  them  with  sociability  itself.  The  mutual  oa 
tertainment  of  the  mind  must  be  immediate  in  society 
In  chess  and  even  in  whist,  the  mental  working  is  keen, 
and  the  action  is  decidedly  mutual,  if  we  may  not  ratlie 
Ray  antagonistic,  but  no  one  would  think  of  saying  tliat  h 
had  enjoyod  Mr.  Morphy’s  society,  because  he  was  one  of 
his  eight  opponents  in  a chess  tournament,  and  nOxie  bu 
doting  dowagers  would  presume  to  talk  of  the  society” 
of  the  whist- table.  The  intercourse  must  be  direct  frora 
mind  to  mind. 

Social  intercourse  is  in  fact,  the  consequence  of  a neces- 
61  ty  felt  by  men  and  women  for  new  channels  of  thought, 
tnd  new  impulses  of  feeling.  We  read  books,  and  we  go 

the  play  for  the  very  same  purpose  ; but  that  which 
constitutes  the  superior  charm  of  society  over  these  relax- 
ations is  its  variety  and  uncertainty.  The  guest  could  never 
have  sat  through  the  Barmecide’s  feast,  if  he  had  not  ex- 
pected that  each  succeeding  cover  would  reveal  a dainty 
entremets  to  make  up  for  the  shadowy  character  of  the 
joints  and  hors  d oeuvres^  and  not  even  an  old  maid  of 
fifty  could  continue  to  attend  those  dreary  evening  parties 
at  the  vicar’s,  or  those  solemn  dinners  at  the  hall,  if  she 
did  not  look  forward  to  meeting  some  new  guest,  or  at  least 
having' some  new  idea  struck  into  her. 

I have  always  doubted  whether  Boswell  had  not  as  great 
mental  capacities  of  their  kind  as  Johnson.  It  requires 
eidier  a profound  mind  or  a cold  heart  to  feel  no  necessity 
fer  social  intercourse.  Bozzy  had  not  the  latter.  Had  he 
tlu  former?  As  the  great  mind  can  content  itself  with 
ito  ovrii  reflections,  stimulated  at  most  by  the  printed 
ihoaglits  of  others,  so  it  carries  in  itself  its  power  of  vary- 
ing what  it  takes  in,  and  scorns  to  look  for  variety  from 


MENTAL  INTERCOURSE  NECESSARY. 


88 


without.  Most  deep  thinkers  have  had  one  pet  book,  which 
they  have  read,  one  bosom-friend  whom  they  have  studied 
in  a thousand  different  lights  according  to  the  variety  which 
their  own  nervous  mind  would  suggest.  Had  Boswell  b(‘en 
\n  ordinary  man,  would  he  not  have  wearied  of  the  Dec 
toi  'S  perpetual  sameness,  of  his  set  answers  and  anticipated 
rebuffs  ? Lovers  weary  of  one  another's  minds,  and  the 
cleverest  people  are  incapable  of  enduring  a 
for  three  weeks  at  a time,  and  was  Boswell  more  than  a 
lover  ? 

“ Lean  not  on  one  mind  constantly, 

Lest  where  one  stood  before,  two  fall. 

Something  God  hath  to  say  to  thee 
Worth  hearing  from  the  lips  of  all.”* 

And  it  is  this  feeling  which  impels  men  of  good  sense  and 
ordinary  minds  to  seek  acquaintance  as  well  as  friends, 
which  makes  me  happy  to  talk  sometimes  to  the  plough- 
man coming  from  the  field,  to  the  policeman  hanging  about 
his  ]»eat,  even  to  the  thief  whose  hand  I have  caught  in 
my  pocket.  Could  I have  a professional  pickpocket  in  my 
grar^p  and  not  seize  the  rare  opportunity  of  discovering 
wfij^-t  view  a thief  takes  of  life,  of  right  and  wrong,  honoi 
even  manners  and  the  habits  of  good  society  ? You  maj 
be  sure  he  has  something  to  tell  me  on  all  these  points,  and 
fo’“  a while  I might  profit  from  even  his  society ; though, 
ft?,  equality  is  necessary,  I should  for  the  time  have  to  let 
-oiyself  down  to  his  level,  which  is  scarcely  desirable. 

1 have  said  that  there  are  some  minds,  universal  enough 
m themselves  to  feel  no  need  of  society.  To  such,  solitude 
is  society — of  thought.  To  such  the  prison-cell  is  but 


• Owen  Meredith. 


36 


THE  SPIRir  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


little  tiial,  Raleigh  was  as  great  in  the  Tower  as  out  of 
it.  and  Michael  Angelo  desired  only  to  sit  for  days  gazing 
aj'On,  ay,  and  communing,  with  the  grand  men  and  won 
drous  scenes  which  he  found  in  his  own  brain. 

Other  minds  again  are  content  with  a little  society,  bu 

h the  weakest  class  that  can  never  do  without  it.  1 
V ill  not  be  difficult  to  show  that  the  wits  and  beaux  wh 
have  lived  for  society  only,  were  men  whom  no  one  need 
aspire  to  rival. 

I draw  this  distinction  in  order  that  hereafter  I may 
speak  more  freely  of  conversation  in  general  society ; but 
it  must  not  be  thought,  by  a converse  conclusion,  that  every 
common  frequenter  of  society  is  but  a poor-minded  being. 
Socrates  and  Shakspere,  who  lived  continually  with  their 
fellow-creatures,  would  not  thank  you  for  such  an  inference, 
and  the  cleverest  men  are  often  the  most  sociable ; though 
as  La  Rochefoucault.says  In  conversation  confidence  hag 
a greater  share  than  wit.^’ 

Chesterfield  says,  there  are  two  sorts  of  good  company; 
one  which  is  called  the  heau-monde^  and  consists  of  thos^ 
people  who  have  the  lead  in  courts,  and  in  the  gay  part  of 
ife ; the  other  consists  of  those  who  are  distinguished  by 
ome  peculiar  merit,  or  who  excel  in  some  particular  and 
iraluable  art  or  science.’’  If  this  were  not  the  opinion 
of  my  patron  saint,  I should  maintain  that  the  writer  knew 
not  what  good  company  was.  But  in  truth  in  the  days  of 
Philip  Dormer  Stanhipe  there  w\as  little  option  but  be 
iween  wealth,  rank,  and  fashion,  on  the  one  hand,  and  wi 
find  learning  on  the  other;  and  his  Lordship  cannot  b 
blamed  for  writing  thus  in  the  beginning  of  the  r'ghteentJ 
century,  when  the  middle  classes  had  not  learnt  manners 
’€  a century  later  Mr.  Hayward,  who  undertakei  ■)  write 


BAD  MOKALS  AND  BAD  SOCTTETT. 

iiowTi  books  of  etiquette,  tells  us  that  rank,  svedlth,  ana 
flistinction  of  some  sort,”  are  the  elements  of  success  ic 
-society: 

If  the  opinion  of  a man  who  for  twelve  years  laboite 
iO  make  a graceful  gentleman  of  his  son,  and,  though  i t 
ailed  to  do  so,  certainly  thought  and  wrote  more  on  thr 
nanners  of  good  society  than  any  man  before  and  since,  is 
not  to  be  taken  as  a maxim,  I must  be  allowed  some  hesi- 
tation in  putting  forward  a definition.  As  Chesterfield 
himself  says,  bad  company  is  much  more  easily  defined 
than  good.  Let  us  begin  with  the  bad,  then,  and  see  to 
what  it  brings  us. 

Beau  Brummel  broke  off  an  engagement  with  a young 
lady  because  he  once  saw  her  eat  cabbage.  ‘‘  Over-nice 
people,”  says  Dean  Swift,  “ have  sometimes  very  nasty 
ideas.”  But  George  the  Less  evidently  thought  the 
young  lady  in  question  was  very  bad  company.  To  de- 
fine exactly  where  bad  manners  begin  is  not  easy,  but 
there  is  no  doubt  that  no  society  is  good  in  which  they 
are  found  ; and  this  book  will  have  been  written  in  vain, 
if  the  reader  after  studying  it  is  unable  to  distinguish  be- 
tween  bad  and  good  behavior.  In  the  present  day  neither 
Brummel  nor  his  “ fat  friend,’’  the  greatest  gentleman 
in  Europe,”  would  be  tolerated  in  good  society.  The 
code  of  morals  is  clearly  written,  whatever  may  be  thf 
traditionary  code  of  manners,  and  we  may  at  once  lay 
down  as  a rule,  that  where  morals  are  openly  bad,  society 
Hust  be  bad.  The  badness  of  morals  is  soon  detected. 
We  may  indeed  meet  in  a London  ball  room  a score  of 
'oung  men,  whose  manners  are  as  spotless  as  their  shirt 
routs,  and  fail  to  discover  from  their  carriage  and  coi 
versation  that  one  requires  assistance  to  undress  everj 


88 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


thud  night,  another  is  supported  by  Hebrews  in  gambling 
away  his  reversionary  property,  and  a third,  withoul 
Shelley’s  genius,  shares  his  opinions  as  to  the  uselessnesi 
of  matrimonial  vows.  But  let  us  pursue  their  ac(;(uaint- 
ance,  and  we  shall  soon  learn  from  the  tone  of  their  con- 
versation what  is  the  tenor  of  their  lives. 

Bad  society,  then,  may  be  divided  into  three  classes 
1.  That  in  w^hich  both  morals  and  manners  are  bad ; 2 
That  in  which  the  manners  are  bad,  be  the  morals  w’^hat 
they  wdll ; 3.  That  in  which  the  manners  appear  to  be 
good,  but  the  morals  are  detestable.  The  first  is  low, 
the  second  vulgar,  the  third  dangerous  society. 

Few  people  but  undergraduates,  young  ensigns,  and 
aspiring  clerks  and  shop-boys,  will  need  to  be  warned 
against  low  society.  Where  vice  wears  no  veil,  and  de- 
cency forever  blushes,  the  man  of  any  self-respect,  to  say 
nothing  of  taste  and  education,  will  speedily  be  disgusted. 
The  first  proof  of  lowness  is  seen  at  once  in  undue  fa- 
miliarity. If  there  ar  omen  in  company,  you  will  at 
once  discover  their  character  from  the  manner  in  which 
they  allow  themselves  to  be  addressed ; but  if  not,  you 
will  doubtless  ere  long  be  yourself  subjected  to  a freedom 
af  treatment,  which  you  will  readily  distinguish  from 
ease  of  manner,  and  know  to  be  beyond  the  proper  limits. 
Familiarity,  on  first  introduction,  is  always  of  bad  style, 
often  even  vulgar,  and,  when  used  by  the  openly  immor- 
al, IS  low  and  revolting.  A man  of  self  respect  will  not 
be  pleased  with  it  even  when  it  comes  from  the  most  re- 
ftpectable,  or  his  superiors ; he  will  despise  it  in  his 
e(|uals,  and  will  take  it  almost  as  an  insult  from  those 
who  do  not  respect  themselves.  If  Brummel  reallj 
had  the  impudence  to  say  to  his  patron  prince,  Wales 


INSTANCES  OF  FAMILIARITY. 


8t 

ring  the  bell  ! we  cannot  blame  the  corpulent  fioige 
for  ordering  the  Beau’s  carriage  when  the  servant  appear 
ed.  We  can  only  wonder  that  he  did  not  take  warning:, 
by  his  favorite’s  presumption  to  separate  himself  from 
rest  of  his  debauched  hangers-on,  when  he  found  tha 
respect  for  the  Prince  was  swamped  in  contempt  for  th 
pro  digate. 

This  is  a good  opportunity  for  introducing  a few  vrorda 
on  the  subject  of  familiarity,  Avhich,  writing  as  an  English- 
man, we  may  at  once  lay  down  as  incompatible  with  good 
society.  You  are  a race  of  pokers  !”  say  the  French 
‘You  are  a race  of  puppies!”  replies  the  inassailable 
Englishman  ; and  certainly  there  is  nothing  more  sublime- 
ly ridiculous  than  the  British  lion  shaking  his  mane  and 
muttering  a growl  when  the  Continental  poodle  asks  him, 
in  a friendly  manner,  to  shake  his  paw.  Dignity  has 
its  limits  as  well  as  ease,  and  dignity  is  extravagant  in 
Spain,  and  often  melodramatic  in  England.  Charles  I. 
never  laughed,  and  his  cotemporary,  Philip  of  Spain, 
never  smiled.  But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  En- 
glish have  always  been  as  dignified  as  the  modern  towers 
bristling  with  cannon,  and  bearing  the  motto,  “ Noli  me 
tangere,”  who  are  seen  moving  in  Pall-Mall  in  the  after- 
noon. Stiffness  perhaps  came  in  with  Brummelks  starched 
cravat,  a yard  in  height,  which  took  him  a quarter  of  arj 
hour  to  crease  down  to  that  of  his  neck.  In  the  reigns  of 
the  Tudors,  familiarity  was  the  order  of  the  day  at  the 
Court.  There  was  nothing  shocking  in  Bluff  Harry 
stretching  his  huge  gouty  leg  upon  Catharine  Parr's  lap 
and  Queen  Elizabeth  thought  herself  only  witty  when  tc 
Sir  Roger  Williams,  presenting  a petition  which  she  dis^ 
liked,  she  exclaimed,  “ Williams,  how  your  boot^  stmk 


iO 


TflE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCrAL  OBSERVANCES 


‘^Tut,  madame/’  replied  the  Welshman,  “it  is  my  suit 
not  my  boots  which  stink.”  In  Ben  Jonson’s  day  it  was 
the  height  of  gallantry  to  chuck  a lady  under  the  chin, 
and  make  a not  very  refined  compliment  to  her  rosy  lips 
Even  the  cavaliers  of  Charles’  court  had  a freedom  of 
speech  md  manner  v/hich  disgusted  the  puritans ; and.  i 
Milton’s  report  be  true,  the  sovereign  that  never  laughed 
saw  no  harm  in  making  indelicate  remarks  before,  if  not 
to,  the  Queen’s  ladies.  But  the  most  curious  instance? 
of  familiarity,  mistaken  for  wit,  are  to  be  found  in  the 
reigns  of  William  iii.  and  Anne.  When  Bath  was  the 
most  fashionable  spot  in  the  kingdom,  and  Beau  Nash  the 
most  fashionable  man  in  Bath,  the  following  speeches,  in- 
terlarded with  oaths,  were  his  most  fashionable  mots : — 
A lady  afliicted  with  a curvature  of  the  spine,  once  told 
him  that  she  had  that  day  come  straight  from  London 
Straight,  madame  !”  replied  the  magnificent  master  of 
the  ceremonies,  “then  you’ve  been  horribly  warped  by 
the  way.”  When,  on  an  another  occasion,  a gentleman 
appeared  at  an  assembly  in  boots,  which  Nash  had  inter- 
dicted, he  called  out  to  him,  “Hollo!  Hogs  Norton, 
haven’t  you  forgot  to  bring  your  horse?”  He  was  well 
put  down,  however,  by  a young  lady,  whom  he  once  met 
walking  with  a spaniel  behind  her.  “ Please,  madame,” 
asked  the  Beau,  “can  you  tell  me  the  name  of  Tobit’s 
dog? ” “ Yes,  sir,”  answered  the  damsel ; “his  name  if 

Nash,  and  a very  impudent  dog  he  is,  too.” 

Familiarity  arises  either  from  an  excess  of  friendlinesa 
3T  a deficiency  of  respect  The  latter  is  never  pardonable 
We  cannot  consider  that  man  well-bred  who  shows  nc 
respect  for  the  position,  feelings,  or  even  prejudices  of 
Dthors.  The  youth  who  addresses  his  father  as  “govern- 


CV15SPECT  TO  THE  SEX 


u 

, or/  or  come  now,  paymaster,’’  is  almost  as  blaiLable  as 
the  man  who  stares  at  my  club-foot,  or,  because  I have  a 
very  dark  complexion,  asks  me  at  first  sight  when  I left 
India.  Still  more  reprehensible  should  I be  if  I exclaim^ 
td  to  a stout  lady,  How  w^arm  you  look  ! ” asked  Mr. 
Spurgeon  if  he  had  been  to  many  balls  lately ; inquired 
after  the  wife  and  family  of  a Romish  priest,  or  begged 
the  Dean  of  Carlisle  to  tell  me  the  odds  on  the  Derby. 

Worse,  again,  is  the  familiarity  which  arises  from  n i- 
tural  coarseness,  and  which  becomes  most  prominent  in 
the  society  of  elderly  men,  or  where  ladies,  are  present. 
The  demeanor  of  youth  to  age  should  ahvays  be  res})ect- 
ful;  that  of  man  to  woman  should  approach  even  reverence 

“ To  thee  be  all  men  heroes;  every  race 
Noble  ; all  women  virgins  ; and  each  place 
A temple,” 

And  certainly  it  is  better  and  more  comfortable  to  believe 
in  the  worth  of  all,  than  by  contempt  and  boldness  to  leave 
the  impression  of  impudence  and  impropriety.  It  should 
be  the  boast  of  every  man  that  he  had  never  put  modesty 
to  the  blush,  nor  encouraged  immodesty  to  remove  her 
mask.  But  w^e  fear  there  is  far  too  little  chivalry  in  the 
present  day.  If  young  men  do  not  chuck  their  partners 
under  the  chin,  they  are  often  guilty  of  piessing  their 
hands  when  the  dance  affords  an  opportunity.  There  is  a 
calm  dignity  with  which  to  show  that  the  offence  has  been 
noticed,  but  if  a lady  condescends  to  reprove  it  in  woids, 
she  forces  the  culprit  to  defend  himself,  and()ften  ends  by 
making  the  breach  worse.  On  the  othor  hand,  let  a woraan 
once  overlook  the  slightest  familiarity,  and  fail  to  show  hei 
surprise  in  her  manner,  and  she  can  never  be  certain  that 


\'2  THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 

it  wii]  not  be  repeated.  There  are  few  actions  so  atrooi« 
lusly  familiar  as  a wink.  I would  rather  kiss  a ladj 
outright  than  wink  or  leer  at  her,  for  that  silent  movement 
fieeras  to  imply  a secret  understanding  which  may  be  in* 
terpreted  in  any  way  you  like.  Even  between  men  a wiiil 
mould  be  avoided,  however  intimate  the  terms  between  you^ 
since  it  seems  to  keep  the  rest  of  the  company  in  the  dark 
an  1 is  perhaps  worse  than  whispering. 

We  often  hear  people  complain  of  the  necessity  of 
company  manners.”  As  a general  rule  such  people  must 
be  by  nature  coarse.  A well-bred  man  has  always  the 
same  manners  at  home  and  in  society,  and  what  is  bad  in 
the  former,  is  only  Avorse  in  the  latter.  It  can  never  be 
pardonable  to  swagger  and  lounge,  nor  to  carry  into  even 
the  family  circle  the  actions  proper  to  the  dressing-room. 
Even  where  familiarity  has  nothing  shocking  in  itself,  it 
attacks  the  respect  due  to  the  society  of  others,  whoever 
they  may  be,  and  presents  the  danger  of  a further  breach 
of  it.  From  familiarity  to  indecency  is  but  one  step. 
Thus  no  part  of  the  dress,  not  a shoe-string  even,  should 
be  arranged  in  the  presence  of  ladies.  The  Hindus,  re- 
markable for  the  delicacy  of  their  manners,  would  not  allow 
kissing,  scratching,  pinching,  or  lying  down  to  be  repre- 
sented on  the  stage,  and  at  least  the  last  three  should  never 
be  permitted  in  a mixed  society  of  men  and  women.  There 
are  attitudes  too,  which  are  a transition  from  ease  to  famil- 
iarity, and  should  never  be  indulged.  A man  may  cross  nig 
legs  in  the  present  day,  but  should  never  stretch  them  apart 
To  wipe  the  forehead,  gape,  yawn,  and  so  forth,  are  only 
a shade  less  obnoxious  than  the  American  habit  of  expec- 
toration. I shall  have  more  to  say  on  this  subject,  and 
must  now  pass  to  another. 


SHYNESS. 


ih 


Familiarity  must  be  condemned  or  pardoned  dfcoiding 
to  the  motive  that  suggests  it.  Not  unfrequently  it  arise? 
from  over-friendliness  or  even  shyness,  and  must  then  bo 
gently  and  kindly  repi’essed.  As  for  shyness,  which  is  pm 
evcelleiice  the  great  obstacle  to  ease  in  English  society,  1 
r)r  my  part,  think  it  infinitely  preferable  to  forwardness 
It  calls  forth  our  kindest  and  best  feelings,  utterly  disarms 
the  least  considerate  of  us,  and  somewhat  endears  us  tf 
the  sufferer.  Yet  so  completely  is  it  at  variance  with  the 
spirit  of  society,  that  in  France  it  is  looked  on  as  a sin ; 
and  children  are  brought  forward  as  much  as  possible  that 
they  may  early  get  rid  of  it,  the  consequence  of  which  is, 
that  a French  boy  from  his  college  is  one  of  the  most  ob- 
noxious of  his  race,  while  you  cannot  help  feeling  that  the 
extreme  difiidence  of  the  debutante  is  merely  assumed  in 
)bedience  to  ch  re  maman.  Give  me  a boy  that  blushes 
when  you  speak  to  him,  and  a girl  under  seventeen,  who 
looks  down  because  she  dares  not  look  up.  On  the  other 
hand,  shyness  is  trying  and  troublesome  in  young  people 
of  full  age,  though  a little  of  it  is  always  becoming  on 
first  acquaintance ; while  in  middle-aged  people  it  is  scarce- 
ly pardonable. 

To  the  young,  therefore,  who  are  entering  into  society 
I would  say.  Never  be  ashamed  of  your  shyness,  since, 
however  painful  it  may  be  to  you,  it  is  far  less  disagreeable 
to  others  than  the  attempt  to  conceal  it  by  familiarity. 

The  only  way  to  treat  familiarity  arising  from  shyness 
8 not  to  notice  it,  but  encourage  the  offender  till  you 
have  given  him  or  her  confidence.  It  is  a kindness  as 
much  tc  yourself  as  to  the  sufferer  from  shyness,  to  intro- 
duce merry  subjects,  to  let  fly  a little  friendly  badinage 
at  him,  until  he  thinks  that  you  are  deceived  by  his  assumed 


44  THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 

manner,  and  no  longer  afraid  of  being  thought  nervous 
really  gets  rid  of  the  chief  cause  of  that  feeling.  ^ 

When  Brummell  was  asked  by  a lady  whom  he  scarce  Ij 
knew,  to  come  and  take  tea’’  with  her.  the  Beau  replied, 
^ Madame,  you  take  a walk,  and  you  take  a liberty,  but 
you  drink  tea.”  It  was  only  one  of  those  many  speecbeg 
of  the  Beau’s,  which  prove  that  a man  may  devote  his 
whole  life  to  the  study  of  manner  and  appearance,  and, 
without  good  feeling  to  back  them  up,  not  be  a gentleman 
The  lady  undoubtedly  did  take  a liberty,  but  the  would-bfl 
gentleman  took  a greater  in  correcting  her  idiom.  The 
lady  erred  from  a silly  admiration  of  the  ex-model  of 
fashion ; the  broken  beau  erred  from  excessive  conceit,  and 
an  utter  want  of  heart.  Let  the  reader  judge  between  the 
two.  If  the  object  of  politeness  is  to  insure  harmony  to 
society,  and  set  every  one  at  his  ease,  it  is  as  necessary  to 
good  manners  to  receive  a well-meant  familiarity  in  a like 
spirit,  as  it  is  to  check  one  which  arises  from  coarseness. 

On  the  Continent,  where  diffidence  is  unknown,  and  tc 
be  friendly  is  the  first  object,  we  find  a freedom  of  manners 
which  in  England  we  should  call  familiarity.  Let  a man 
be  of  no  matter  what  station,  he  has  there  a right  to  speak 
to  his  fellow-man,  if  good  him  seems,  and  certainly  the 
barrier  which  we  English  raise  up  between  classes  savors 
very  little  of  Christianity.  W Hat  harm  can  it  do  me,  who 
call  myself  gentleman,  if  a horny-handed  workman,  waiting 
for  the  same  train  as  myself,  comes  up  and  says,  It  is  a 
.fine  day,  sir,”  evincing  a desire  for  a further  interchange 
of  ideas  ; am  I the  more  a gentleman  because  I cut  him 
short  with  a ‘‘Yes,”  and  turn  away;  or  because,  as  many 
people  do  I stare  him  rudely  in  the  face,  and  vouchsafe  ii3 
answer?  “Something  God  hath  to  say  to  thee  wortJi 


TAKING  A LIBERTY. 


4c 


hearing  from  the  lips  of  all,”  and  I may  be  sure  that  1 
shall  learn  something  from  him,  if  I talk  to  him  in  a 
friendly  manner,  which,  if  I am  really  a gentleman,  hia 
socie  y can  do  me  no  harm. 

But  of  course  there  is  a limit  to  be  fixed.  Englishmen 
f aspect  nothing  so  much  as  their  purses  and  their  private 
affairs,  and  in  England  you  might  as  well  ask  a stiangei 
for  five  pounds  as  inquire  what  he  was  travelling  for,  ^\h^  l 
bis  income  was,  or  what  were  the  names  of  his  six  children. 
But  England  is  an  exception  in  this  case,  and  a foreigner 
believes  that  he  does  himself  no  harm  by  telling  you  his 
family  history  at  first  sight.  While,  therefore,  it  is  a gross 
impertinence  in  this  country  to  put  curious  questions  to  a 
person  of  whom  you  know  little,  while  it  is  reserved  for 
the  closest  intimacy  to  inquire  as  to  private  means  and  per- 
sonal motives,  it  is  equally  ridiculous  in  an  Englishman 
abroad  to  take  offence  at  such  questions,  and  consider  as 
an  impertinence  what  is  only  meant  as  a friendly  advance 
to  nearer  acquaintance.  I certainly  cannot  understand  whj 
an  honest  man  should  determine  to  make  a secret  of  his 
position,  profession,  and  resources,  unless  it  be  from  a false 
pride,  and  a desire  to  be  thought  richer  and  better  than  he 
is ; but  as  these  subjects  are  respected  in  this  country,  I 
should  be  guilty  of  great  ill-breeding  if  I sought  to  rt- 
move  his  secrecy. 

I shall  never  forget  the  look  of  horror  and  astonishment 
r once  saw  on  the  face  of  an  English  lady  talking  to  a 
foreign  ambassadress.  The  latter,  thoroughly  well-brei, 
iccording  to  native  ideas,  had  admired  the  former’s  dress 
and  touching  one  of  the  silk  flounces  delicately  enough, 
she  inquired,  How  much  did  it  cost  a yard?”  Sucli 
questions  are  common  enough  on  the  Continent,  and  ouj 


46 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


teiglibors  see  no  harm  in  them.  And  why  should  we  di 
BO?  Is  it  anyway  detrimental  to  us  to  tell  how  much  wc 
pail  for  our  clothes?  Yet,  such  is  the  false  pride  of 
English  people  on  matters  connected,  however  slightly 
with  money,  that  even  to  mention  that  most  necessary  articl 
is  considered  as  bad  breeding  in  this  country.  We  must 
respect  the  prejudice,  though,  in  fact,  it  is  a vulgar  one. 

The  next  kind  of  bad  society  is  the  vulgar,  in  which  the 
morals  may  be  good,  but  the  manners  are  undoubtedly  bad. 
What  bad  manners  are  in  detail,  will  be  shown  in  the  course 
of  this  work  ; but  I shall  now  take  as  the  distinguishing 
test  of  this  kind  of  society — a general  vulgarity  of  conduct 
Until  the  end  of  the  last  century,  the  w^ord  vulgarity  was 
confined  to  the  low,  mean,  and  essentially  plebeian.  It 
would  be  well  if  we  could  so  limit  it  in  the  present  day, 
but  the  great  mixture  of  classes  and  the  elevation  of 
wealth,  have  thrust  vulgarity  even  into  the  circles  of  good 
society,  where,  like  a black  sheep  in  a white  flock,  you  may 
sometimes  find  a thoroughly  vulgar  man  or  woman  recom« 
mended  by  little  but  their  wealth,  or  a position  gained  by 
certain  popular  qualifications.  Where  the  majority  of  the 
company  are  decidedly  vulgar,  the  society  may  be  set  down 
as  bad. 

Apart  from  coarseness  and  familiarity,  vulgarity  may 
be  defined  as  pretension  of  some  kind.  This  is  shown  promi- 
nently in  a display  of  wealth.  I remember  being  taken 
to  dine  at  the  house  of  a French  corn-merchant,  who  had 
realized  an  enormous  fortune.  It  was  almost  a family 
party,  fcr  there  were  only  three  strangers  including  myself 
The  manners  of  every  one  present  were  irreproachable,  and 
the  dinner  excellent,  but  it  was  sei'ved  on  gold  plate. 
Such  a display  was  unnecessary,  inconsistent,  and  therefore 


THE  VULGARITY  OF  DISPLAY. 


^7 


m gar.  A display  of  dress  in  ladies  comes  under  llic  same 
liead  and  will  be  easily  detected  by  inappropriateness.  The 
lady  who  walks  in  the  streets  in  a showy  dress  suitable  only 
to  a fite ; w^ho  comes  to  a quiet  social  gathering  with  a 
! r^fusion  of  costly  jewelry;  the  man  who  eloctiifies  a 
dtiuntry  village"  with  the  fashionable  attire  of  Rotten  Row 
cr  reminds  you  of  his  guineas  by  a display  of  unnecessarj 
jewels  ; the  people,  in  short,  who  are  always  over-drest  foi 
the  occasion,  may  be  set  down  as  vulgar.  Too  much  state 
is  a vulgarity  not  always  confined  to  wealth,  and  when  a 
late  nobleman  visiting  a simple  commoner  at  his  country 
house,  brought  with  him  a valet,  coachman,  three  grooms, 
two  men  servants,  a carriage,  and  half-a-dozen  horsv^s,  he 
was  guilty  of  as  gross  vulgarity  as  Solomon  Moses  or 
A.biathar  Nathan,  who  adorns  his  fat  stumpy  fingers  with 
three  rings  a piece.  So  completely  indeed  is  modesty  the 
true  spirit  of  good  breeding,  that  any  kind  of  display  in 
poor  or  rich,  high  or  low,  savors  of  vulgarity ; and  the 
man  who  makes  too  much  of  his  peculiar  excellencies,  who 
attempts  to  engross  conversation  with  the  one  topic  he  ia 
strong  in,  who  having  travelled  is  always  telling  you 
what  they  do  on  the  Continent;”  who  being  a scholar, 
overwhelms  you  with  Menander  or  Manetho,  who,  having 
a lively  wit,  show’ers  down  on  the  whole  company  a per- 
petual hail  of  his  own  bo7i  mots^  and  laughs  at  them  him- 
self, who,  gifted  with  a fine  voice,  monopolizes  the  piano 
the  whole  evening,  who,  having  distinguished  himself  in 
the  Crimea,  perpetually  leads  back  the  conversation  to  the 
ibcme  of  war,  and  rattles  away  on  his  own  achlevementa 
^ho,  having  Tvritten  a book,  interlards  his  talk  with,  ‘‘  As 
I say  in  my  nrA'el,”  &c.,  who  being  a fine  rider,  shows  his 
& )r8e  off  in  a aiore  of  iifficult  manoeuvres,  as  LouisNapoleoo 


48 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  ORSEnVANCES. 


did  at  the  Egremont  toui  nameut.  though  not  asked  to  takft 
part  in  the  lists,  who  goes  to  a party  with  all  the  medals 
iud  clasps  he  has  perhaps  most  honorably  earned,  or  wlio, 
being  a great  man  in  any  line,  puts  himself  prominently 
forward,  condescends,  talks  loud,  oi  asserts  his  privileges 
43  a vulgar  man,  be  he  king,  kaiser,  or  cobbler. 

But  there  is  a form  of  vulgarity  found  as  much  in  th.Ci# 
uf  small  as  those  of  large  means,  and  known  by  the  name 
of  gentility.’’  I know  a man  who  keeps  a poor  little 
worn-out  pony-phseton,  and  always  speaks  of  it  as  my 
carriage,”  taking  care  to  bring  it  in  whenever  possible. 
My  friend  Mrs.  Jones  dines  at  one  o’clock,  but  invariably 
calls  it  her  lunch.”  The  Rev.  Mr.  Rmich  cannot  alFord 
the  first-class  on  a railway,  but  is  too  genteel  to  go  in  the 
second.  Excellent  man  ! he  tells  me — and  I am  bound  to 
believe  it — that  he  positively  prefers  the  third  class  to  the 
first.'  Those  first-class  carriages  are  so  stuffy,”  he  says 
‘ ‘ and  in  the  second  one  meets  such  people,  it  is  really  un- 
bearable,” but  he  does  not  let  me  know  that  in  the  third 
he  wdll  have  to  sit  next  to  an  odoriferous  ploughboy,  get 
his  knees  crushed  by  a good  woman’s  huge  market-basket, 
and  catch  cold  from  a draught  passing  through  the  ill- 
adjusted  windows.  There  is  no  earthly  reason  why  he 
should  not  travel  in  what  carriage  he  likes,  but  the  \ ulgar- 
ity  consists  in  being  ashamed  of  his  poverty,  and  tacitly 
pretending  to  be  better  off  than  he  is.  Brown,  again  call 
his  father’s  nutshell  of  a cottage  our  country  seat,”  an 
Mrs.  Brown  speaks  of  the  diminutive  buttons  as  the  ‘'man 
servant.”  My  tailor  has  his  crest  embossed  on  his  mto 
paper;  Bobinson,  the  successful  stock-broker,  covers  lua 
pannels  of  his  carriage  with  armorial  bearings  as  large  as 
iishes ; Tomkins,  ashamed  of  his  father’s  name,  signs  him- 


fketensio:!^. 


49 


8elf  Tomkvns;  and  Mrs.  Williams,  when  I call  always 
discourses  >n  English  history  that  she  may  bring  in  John 

Gaunt  ‘‘an  ancestor  of  ours,  you  know.’’ 

Nor  k gentility  confined  to  a pretension  to  more  wealth 
x’vter  bi.th,  or  greater  state  than  w^e  possess.  The  com- 
iorm  of  it,  found  unfortunately  in  all  classes,  is  the 
pie^c^s  m to  a higher  position  than  we  occupy.  The  John- 
sons, r«  tired  haberdashers,  cannot  visit  the  Jacksons,  re- 
tired 1 aen-drapers,  but  have  moved  heaven  and  earth  for 
an  int  eduction  to  the  Jamesons,  who  are  not  retire^  from 
anything.  The  Jamesons  receive  the  Johnsons,  but  stiffly 
annihilate  them  at  once  by  talking  of  “our  friends  the 
Williamsons,”  who  have  a cousin  in  rarliament,  and  the 
Williamsons  again  are  for  ever  dragging  the  said  cousin 
into  their  conversation,  that  the  Jamesons  may  be  stupefied. 
We  go  higher;  the  M.  P.,  though  perhaps  a Radical,  will 
for  ever  be  dogging  the  steps  of  the  noble  viscount  opposite, 
and  call  the  leader  of  his  own  party  “ that  fellow  so-and- 
so.”  The  viscount  is  condescendingly  gracious  to  the 
commoner,  but  defer-ential  to  the  iuke,  and  the  duke  him- 
self will  be  as  merry  as  old  King  Cole,  if  “ the  blood” 
should  happen  to  notice  him  more  than  usual.  Alas! 
poor  worms,  in  what  paltry  shadows  we  can  glory,  and 
forget  the  end  that  lays  us  all  in  the  common  comfortless 
lap  of  mother  earth  ! 

Nothing  therefore  will  more  irretrievably  stamp  you  as 
vulgar  in  ideally  good  society,  than  the  repeated  introduc  • 
ion  of  tlie  names  of  the  nobility,  or  even  of  distinguishe  3 
personages  in  reference  to  yourself.  It  is  absurd  to  sup- 
pose that  you  can  reflect  the  ligh?'  of  these  greater  orbs ; on 
the  contrary,  your  mention  of  them  naturally  suggests  a 
comparison . such  as  one  make«  between  the  unpretending 
3 


50 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


glorious  sun,  and  the  pale  pitiable  moon,  when  she  quits 
her  proper  sphere  and  forces  herself  into  broad  daylight 
W hen  Scribbles  of  the  Seai  and  Tape  Office  tells  us  hi 
'A  as  flirting  last  night  with  Lady  Adelaide,  when  the  Duk  ^ 

( came  up,  and  “ shook  hands  with  me,  ’poa  ho  n<  r 

Le  did,’’  I am  tempted  to  think  Scribbles  either  a gvos^ 
exaggerator,  or  a grosser  snob.  When  worthy  Mrs. 
Midge  relates  for  the  thirteenth  time  how  she  travelled 
down  with  Her  Grace,”  and  I see  how  her  eyes  glow, 
and  how  vainly  she  attempts  to  appear  indifferent  to  the 
honor  (which  it  is  to  her),  she  only  proves  to  me  how 
small  she  must  feel  herself  to  be,  to  hope  to  gain  bril- 
liance by  such  a slight  contact.  I feel  fain  to  remind  her 
of  the  Indian  fable  of  a lump  of  crystal,  which  thought 
it  would  be  mistaken  for  gold  because  it  reflected  the  glit- 
ter of  the  neighboring  metal.  It  was  never  taken  for 
gold,  but  it  was  supposed  to  cover  it,  and  got  shivered  to 
atoms  by  the  hammer  of  the  miner. 

But  when  this  vulgarity  is  reduced  to  practice  it  be- 
comes actual  meanness.  The  race  of  panders,  parasites, 
ir  ‘‘flunkies,”  as  they  are  now  called,  is  one  which  has 
f ourished  through  all  time,  and  the  satire  of  all  ages  has 
been  freely  levelled  at  their  servile  truculency.  But,  in 
general,  they  have  had  a substantial  object  in  view,  and 
mean  as  he  may  be,  a courtier  who  flattered  for  place  or 
for  money,  is  somehow  less  contemptible  than  the  modern 
groveller  who  panders  to  the  great  from  pure  respect  of 
their  greatness,  from  pure  want  of  self-respect.  I am 
not  one  of  those  who  deny  position  its  rights ; and  as  long 
as  caste  is  recognised  in  this  country,  I would  have  re- 
spect shown  from  one  of  a lower  to  one  of  a higher  class. 
But  this  respect  for  the  position  must  not  be  blind  ' it 


HONI  SOIT  QUI  MAL  Y PENSB. 


51 


should  not  extend  to  worship  of  the  man.  No  rank,  no 
wealth,  no  distinction,  even  if  gained  by  merit,  should 
close  our  eyes  to  actual  unworthiness  in  its  holder.  Wo 
may  bow  to  the  nobility  of  my  lord,  but  we  are  truculent 
slaves  if  we  call  it  nobleness.  We  may  respect  with  dig- 
iity  the  accident  of  birth  and  wealth,  but  if  the  duke  be 
an  acknowledged  reprobate,  or  the  millionaire  a selfish 
grasper,  we  are  inexcusable  if  we  allow  their  accidental 
distinctions  to  blot  out  their  glaring  faults.  What  wo 
should  hate  in  our  friend,  and  punish  in  our  servant,  we 
must  never  overlook  as  a ‘‘weakness”  in  the  Duke  or 
Dives.  It  is  not  mere  vulgarity,  it  is  positive  unchristi- 
anity,  hopeless  injustice. 

A less  offensive  but  more  ridiculous  form  of  vulgar 
gentility,  is  that  which  displays  itself  in  a pretension  to 
superior  refinement  and  sensibility.  We  have  all  had  our 
laugh  at  the  American  ladies  who  talk  of  the  “ limbs  ” of 
their  chairs  and  tables,  ask  for  a slice  from  the  “ bosom  ” 
of  a fowl,  and  speak  of  a rump-steak  as  a “ seat-fixing,” 
but  in  reality  we  are  not  far  short  of  them,  when  we  in 
vent  the  most  far-fetched  terms  for  trousers,  and  ou* 
young  ladies  faint — or  try  to — at  the  mention  of  a petti- 
coat,— Honi  soit  qui  mal  y pense ; and  shame  indeed  t( 
the  man,  still  more  to  the  woman,  whose  mind  is  so  im« 
pure,  that  the  mere  name  of  one  common  object  immedi- 
ately suggests  another  which  decency  excludes  from  con- 
versation. It  is  indeed  difficult  to  define  in  what  indelicacy 
X/nsists  and  where  it  begins,  but  it  is  clear  that  nature  naa 
ntended  some  things  to  be  hidden;  and  civilization^  le- 
moving  farther  and  farther  from  nature,  yet  net  going 
against  it,  has  added  many  more.  In  this  respect,  civili* 
Bation  has  become  a second  nature,  and  what  it  has  ouc« 


52 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


concea-led  cannot  be  exposed  without  indelicacy.  For  in 
stance,  nothing  is  more  beautiful  than  tho  bosom  (f  ^ 
woman,  and  to  a pure  mind  there  is  nothing  shocking,  but 
Bomething  touching  indeed,  in  seeing  a poor  woman  wh 
has  no  bread  to  give  it,  suckling  her  child  in  public.  Stil 
civilization  has  covered  the  bosom,  and  the  ladies  win 
wear  their  dresses  ofi‘  their  shoulders  are,  7?i  the  present 
dai/j  guilty  of  an  immodesty  which  was  none  in  the  days 
wlien  Lely  painted — on  canvas,  I mean — the  beauties 
of  Charles’  court. 

But  to  go  beyond  the  received  opinion  of  the  majority 
;s  super-refinement  and  vulgarity,  and  too  often  tempts 
us  to  fancy  that  an  impure  association  has  suggested  the 
idea  of  impropriety.  I cannot  imagine  what  indelicate 
fancy  those  people  jnust  have  who  will  not  allow"  us  to  say 
“ go  to  bed,”  but  substitute  retire  to  rest.”  Surely  tho 
couch  where  dewy  sleep  drowms  our  cares  and  refreshes 
our  wearied  forms ; where  we  dream  those  dream.s  which 
to  some  are  the  only  bright  spots  of  their  lives ; where  w^e 
escape  for  a time  from  the  grinding  of  the  worldly  mill, 
from  hunger,  calumny,  persecution,  and  dream  maybe  of 
heaven  itself  and  future  relief ; — surely  our  pure  simple 
beds  are  too  sacred  to  be  polluted  with  the  impure  con- 
structions 01  these  vulgar  prudes.  Or,  again,  w"hat  more 
beautiful  word  than  woman  ? woman,  man’s  ruin  first,  and 
since  then  alternately  his  destroyer  and  savior ; w^oman, 
#lvj  consoles,  raises,  cherishes,  refines  us ; and  yet  I must 
forgot  that  you  are  a woman,  and  only  call  you  a lady 
' La^iy  ’ is  a beautiful  name,  a high  noble  name,  but  it  is 
n H dear  and  near  to  me  like  w"oman.”  Yet  if  I speak 
•>f  you  as  a woman,  you  leap  up  and  tell  me  you  will  nut 
stay  to  be  insulted  Poor  silly  little  thing,  I gave  you 


GENTILITY  IN  LANGUAGE. 


53 


(he  name  I loved  best,  and  you^  not  I,  conrected  som^ 
horrid  idea  with  it ; is  your  mind  or  mine  at  fault  ? Per= 
haps  the  most  delightful  instance  of  this  indelicate  delica 
cy  of  terms  was  in  the  case  of  the  elderly  spinster  -of 
whom  I was  told  the  other  day — who  kept  poultry,  bu 
always  spoke  of  the  cock  as  the  hen’s  companion.” 

In  short,  it  amounts  to  this.  If  it  be  indelicate  to 
mention  a thing,  let  it  never  be  mentioned  by  'my  name 
whatever ; if  it  be  not  indelicate  to  mention  it,  it  cannot 
be  so  to  use  its  ordinary  proper  name.  If  legs  are 
naughty,  let  us  never  speak  of  them ; if  not  naughty 
why  blush  to  call  them  legs  ? The  change  of  name  can- 
not change  the  idea  suggested  by  it.  If  legs  be  a naughty 
idea^  tnen  no  recourse  to  limbs”  will  save  you.  You 
have  spoken  of  legs,  though,  under  another  name ; you 
thought  of  legs,  you  meant  legs ; you  suggested  legs  to 
me  under  that  other  name  ; you  are  clearly  an  egregious 
sinner ; you  are  like  the  French  soldier,  you  will  swear 
by  the  saprement,”  saving  his  wretched  little  conscience 
by  the  change  of  a single  letter.  That  reminds  me  of  a 
nautical  friend  who  cured”  himself,  he  said,  of  the  bad 
habit  of  swearing,  by  using,  instead  of  oaths,  the  words 
Rotter — , Amster — , Potz — , and  Schie — , mentally  re- 
serving the  final  syllable  of  these  names  of  towms,  &c  , 
and  fully  convinced  that  he  did  well. 

That  same  habit  of  demi-swearing  is  another  bit  cf 
|>ietension,  which,  if  it  cannot  be  called  vulgarity,  is  cer 
tainly  Pharisaical.  The  young  lady  would  cut  you 
properly  enough — for  using  an  oath,  will  nevertkclcs 
sry  ‘^bother”  when  her  boot-lace  brfeaks,  or  what  not 
But  “bother”  is  only  the  feminine  form  of  yowr  Saxor 
expletive,  and  means  in  reality  just  as  much 


54 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES, 


your  man  who  would  cut  his  throat  sooner  than  use  a 
word,  will  nevertheless  write  it  ^‘d — ^n,”  as  if  everybody 
did  not  know  what  two  letters  were  left  out.  Thorp  it 
^reat  hypocrisy  about  these  things 

But  the  worst  vulgarity  is  an  assumption  of  refinernen 
in  th^‘  choice  of  language.  This  is  common  among  sei 
7ants  in  England,  and  in  the  lower  orders  in  France  and 
Germany,  where  it  is  sometimes  very  amusing  to  hear 
fine  words  murdered  and  used  in  any  but  the  right  sense. 
Mrs.  Malaprop  saves  me  any  trouble  of  going  into  details 
on  this  point,  but  I may  observe  that  the  best  speakers 
will  never  use  a Latin  w^ord  wliere  an  Anglo-Saxon  one 
will  do  as  well;  ’‘buy”  is  better  than  ^‘purchase,” 
‘‘wish’’  than  desire,^’'  and  so  on.  The  small  genteel, 
you  will  observe,  never  speak  of  rich  and  poor,  but  of 
“ those  of  large  and  those  of  small  means.”  Another  sim- 
ilar piece  of  flummery  is  the  expression,  ‘ ‘ If  anything 
should  happen  to  me,”  which  everybody  knows  you  mean 
for,  “ if  I should  die.”  As  you  do  not  conceal  your 
meaning,  why  not  speak  out  bravely  ? 

Besides  in  words,  there  is  an  over-refinement  in  habits 
Even  cleanliness  can  be  exaggerated,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Pharisees,  and  the  late  Duke  of  Queensbury,  who  would 
wash  in  nothing  but  milk.  Our  own  Queen  uses  distilled 
water  only  for  her  toilet ; but  this  is  not  a case  in  point, 
since  it  is  for  the  sake  of  health,  I believe,  with  her.  A 
sad  case,  however,  was  that  of  the  lovely  Princess  Ale;? 
andrina  of  Bavaria,  who  died  mad  from  over-cleanlineiV» 
It  began  by  extreme  scrupulousness.  At  dinner  sih. 
v/ould  minutely  examine  her  plate,  and  if  she  saw  the 
slightest  speck  on  it,  would  send  for  another.  She  would 
then  turn  the  napkin  round  and  round  to  examine  every 


DANGEROUS  SOCIETY. 


55 


eoinei,  and  often  rise  from  table  because  sbe  thought  sh« 
was  not  served  properly  in  this  respect.  At  last  it  be* 
came  a monomania,  till  on  plates,  napkins,  dishes,  table- 
cloth,  and  everything  else,  she  believed  she  saw  nothiiiiS§ 
I at  masses  of  dirt.  It  weighed  on  her  mind,  poor  tiling^ 
ho  could  not  be  clean  enough,  and  it  drove  her  to  in 
vanity. 

Anne  of  Austria  could  not  lay  her  delicate  limbs  in 
any  but  cambric  sheets,  and  there  are  many  young  gen- 
tlemen in  England  who  look  on  you  as  a depraved  barba- 
rian, if  you  do  not  wear  silk  stockings  under  your  boots. 
Silver-spoonism  is,  after  all,  vulgarity ; it  is  an  assump 
tion  of  delicacy  superior  to  the  majority ; and  so  too,  is 
prudery,  which  is  .only  an  assumption  of  superior  mod- 
esty. 

In  short,  refinement  must  not  war  against  nature,  but 
go  along  with  it,  and  the  true  gentleman  can  do  anything 
that  is  not  coarse  or  wrong.  Fitzlow,  who  cannot  lift  his 
own  carpet-bag  into  his  own  cab;  Startup,  who  cannot 
put  a lump  of  coal  on  the  fire;  Miss  Languish,  who 
never  touched  a needle  and  Miss  Listless,  who  thinks 
it  low  to  rake  the  beds  in  the  garden,  or  tie  up  a head  of 
roses,  are  not  ladies  and  gentlemen,  but  vulgar  people. 
It  rather  astonishes  such  persons  to  find  that  a nobleman 
can  carry  his  bag,  and  stir  his  fire,  and  that  a noble  lady 
delights  in  gardening. 

But  I shall  risk  the  imputation  of  over-refinement  my 
..^df,  if  I say  more  on  this  point,  and  so  I come  to  tliT 
Liitd  class  of  bad  society  in  which  the  manners  and 
breeding  are  perfect,  and  tne  morals  bad,  which  is  the 
mast  dangerous  class  there  is.  Without  agreeing  at  all 
with  the  Chartist  school  in  their  views  of  the  aristocracy 


r><5  THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 

1 think  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  this  class  of  Dad 
society  is  found  mostly  among  the  upper  circles  of  soci- 
ety, anlfoi  the  simple  reason,  that  except  among  them 
vice  is  generally  accompanied  with  bad  manners.  We 
have  historical  proofs  in  any  quantity  of  this  class  being 
aristocratic.  The  vice  of  courts  is  proverbial,  but  courtly 
manners  are  reckoned  as  the  best.  All  the  beaux  and 
half  the  wdts  on  record  have  led  bad  lives.  Chesterfield 
himself  was  a dissolute  gambler,  and  repented  bitterly  in 
his  old  age  of  his  past  life,  and  it  is  he  who  says,  that 
the  best  company  is  not  necessarily  the  most  moral,  which 
determines  the  value  of  his  work  on  Etiquette.  There 
is,  however,  something  in  the  vice  of  this  kind  of  society 
which  at  once  makes  it  the  most  and  least  dangerous. 
All  vice  is  here  gilded ; it  is  made  elegant  and  covered 
with  a gloss  of  good-breeding.  Men  of  family  have  tc 
mix  with  ladies,  and  ladies  of  family  have  almost  public 
reputations  to  keep  up.  All  that  is  done  is  sub  rosa. 
There  are  none  of  the  grosser  vices  admitted  in  the  pres- 
ent day.  There  is  no  drunkenness,  little  or  no  swearing, 
no  coarseness.  But  there  is  enough  of  gambling  still  to 
ruin  a young  man,  and  the  ‘‘  social  evil’’  here  takes  ita 
most  elegant  and  most  seductive  form.  W’^hile,  therefore, 
on  the  one  hand,  you  may  mix  in  this  kind  of  society, 
and  see  and  therefore  know  very  little  of  its  immorality, 
its  vices,  wdien  known  to  you,  assume  a fashionable  pres* 
ige  and  a certain  delicacy  which  seem  to  deprive  them 
of  their  grossness  and  make  them  the  more  tempting 
Let  us  therefore  call  no  society  good,  till  we  have  sound* 
dd  its  morals  as  well  as  its  manners;  and  this  brings  ug 
150  speak  of  what  good  society  really  is. 

We  cannot  do  this  better  than  by  looking  first  intc 


SOCIETY  UNDER  GOOD  QUEEN  BESS. 


61 


what  is  generally  taken  as  good  society.  I shall,  there* 
fore,  glance  over  the  state  of  society  in  different  ages  h 
this  country,  and  in  the  present  day  on  the  Continent. 

The  real  civilization  of  England  can  scarcely  be  datcti 
earlier  than  at  the  Reformation,  and  even  thon  the  tui- 
bulent  state  of  the  country,  setting  one  man's  knife 
against  another,  and  leaving  when  bloodshed  was  shamed 
lack,  the  same  deadly  hatred  showing  itself  in  open  re- 
proaches and  secret  attacks,  made  social  gatherings  a lif- 
ficulty,  if  notan  impossibility.  Henry  viii.,  indeed,  had 
a somewhat  jovial  court,  but  the  country  itself  was  far  too 
unsettled  to  join  much  in  the  merriment.  In  fact,  up  to 
the  time  of  Charles  l.,  there  were  but  three  kinds  of  so- 
ciety in  England  : the  court,  around  which  all  the  nobili- 
ty gathered,  making  London  a Helicon  of  manners  ; the 
small  country  gentry  who  could  not  come  up  to  London : 
and  the  country  people  among  whom  manners  were  aS  yet 
as  rude  as  among  the  serfs  of  Russia  in  the  present  day. 
In  the  court  there  had  succeeded  to  real  chivalry  a kind 
of  false  principle  of  honor.  A man  who  wore  a sword 
was  bound  to  use  it.  Quarrels  were  made  rapidly,  and 
rapidly  patched  up  by  reference  to  the  code  of  honoi 
With  the  country  gentry,  the  main  feature  was  a rough 
hospitality.  People  spoke  their  minds  in  those  days  with- 
out reserve,  and  a courtier  was  looked  on  as  a crafty  man, 
whose  words  served  to  conceal  rather  than  express  his 
thoughts.  Among  the  people  was  a yet  ruder  revelry 
tnd  the  morality  was  not  of  a high  kind. 

The  position  of  woman  is  that  which  has  always  given 
the  key  to  civilization.  The  higher  that  position  has 
been  raised,  the  more  influence  has  the  gentleness  which 
arises  from  her  weakness  been  felt  by  the  other  sex.  Ip 
8* 


58 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVAXCES. 


fact,  the  term  gentleman*’  only  came  in  when  jvomen 
were  admitted  into  society  on  a par  with  men.  A ‘‘  geo* 
tleinan”  was  a man  who  could  associate  with  ladies.  And 
what  was  the  respect  exacted  by  and  paid  to  woman  be 
fere  the  time  of  Charles  i.,  the  dramatists  of  the  Eliza 
fce^than  age  tell  us  in  every  page.  What  must  have  bcei 
tlie  education  of  the  Virgin  Queen  herself,  who  was  not 
thought  very  ill  of  for  allowing  Leicester  to  be  her  lady’s- 
maid,  and  kiss  her  without  asking  leave,  and  who  would 
fiave  been  thought  a prude  had  she  objected  to  the  gross 
scenes  in  the  masks  and  plays  acted  before  her,  and  found 
o.^ten  enough  even  in  Shakspere.  Not  only  were  things 
called  by  their  right  names,”  but  an  insidious  innuendo 
took  the  place  very  often  of  better  wit,  and  was  probably 
enjoyed  far  more. 

The  country  gentry  lived  in  their  moated  houses  at 
great  distances  from  one  another,  and  the  country  lady 
was  rarely  more  than  a good  housewdfe,  serving  a rough 
hospitality  to  her  guests  ; while  the  gentlemen  drank 
deep,  swore  pretty  oaths,  talked  far  from  reservedly  in 
her  presence,  and  pleased  her  most  with  the  broadest  com- 
pliment to  her  fair  form. 

The  dignity  of  Charles  introduced  a rather  more  noble 
bearing  among  the  men,  and  the  Puritans  did  much  to 
cleanse  society  of  its  gross  familiarities  ; but  the  position 
of  women  was  still  a very  inferior  one,  and  it  was  not  till 
th('  beginning  of  the  last  century  that  they  took  a promi 
nent  place  in  society.  There  had  gradually  sprung  up 
another  class,  which  gave  the  tone  to  manners.  Hitherto 
there  had  been  in  London  only  the  Court-circles  and  the 
bourgeoisie.  But  as  the  lesser  nobility  grew  richer  and 
Socked  t<j  the  large  towns,  they  began  to  ferm  a large 


JSOCIETY  IN  THE  LAS!  CENTURY. 


59 


clasi  apart  from  the  Court,  which  gradually  narrowed  its 
circle  more  and  more.  But  good  society  still  meant  h gh 
30ciety,  and  Chesterfield  was  right  in  recommending  hi? 

to  seek  out  rank  and  wealth,  for  those  w^ho  had  it  no 
jvcre  generally  badly  educated  and  w^orse  mannered,  ddiei 
however,  one  class  now  rising  into  a separate  exist* 
enco  which  the  patron  of  manners  has  not  overlooked 
It  is  to  those  men  of  education  and  mind,  who,  lacking 
rank  and  wealth,  were  still  remarkable  for  the  vivacity  of 
their  conversation — in  short,  to  the  w its — that  we  owe  the 
origin  of  our  modern  ‘‘middle  classes.’’ 

The  Spectator^  however,  proves  what  women  were  at 
this  period.  Little  educated  and  with  no  accomplishments 
save  that  of  flirting  a fan,  the  more  fashionable  gave  them  ♦ 
selves  up  to  extravagances  of  dress,  and  were  distinguished 
for  the  smartness,  not  the  sense  of  their  conversation. 
They  were  still  unsuited,  perhaps  more  so  than  ever,  for 
the  companionship  of  intellectual  men,  and  it  was  the 
elegant  triflers,  like  Walpole,  rather  than  men  of  sound 
serious  minds,  who  made  correspondents  of  them.  The 
consequence  was  that  the  men  gathered  together  in  clubs, 
a species  of  evening  society  which,  while  it  fostered  wit, 
destroyed  the  stage,  and  made  a system  of  gambling  and 
drinking.  The  high  society  was  still  the  best,  and  it  was 
among  the  nobility  chiefly  that  women  began  to  mix  in 
the  amusements  of  the  other  sex.  Balls,  too,  were  m 
onger  an  entertainment  reserved  for  Court  and  thg 
•randees ; and  in  the  balls  at  Bath,  under  Beau  Nash  we 
find  the  first  attempt  to  mingle  the  gentry  and  bourgeoisie^ 
and  tims  form  the  nucleus  of  a middle  class.  It  was  now 
too  that  mere  wealth,  which  could  never  have  brought  itl 
owner  into  the  Com  t-circles,  or  been  a sufiicient  recom- 


) 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES, 


mendation  tc  the  nobility  of  the  seventeenth  century,  be 
came  an  authoritative  introduction  among  the  gentry. 

If  England  is  the  only  European  country  which  has  a 
real  middle  class,  where  birth  is  of  no  account,  it  is  owiiig 
t3  that  law  of  primogeniture  which  from  very  remote 
times  caused  the  formation  of  a class  known  as  gentry  ” 
which  has  no  equivalent  in  any  Continental  country. 
was  this  class,  which  belonging  by  connexion  to  the  aris 
tocracy,  belonged  by  necessity  to  the  bourgeoisie^  from 
whom  they  were  not  distinguished  by  actual  rank.  From 
-ehe  bourgeoisie^  indeed,  they  kept  aloof  as  long  as  possi- 
ble ; but  wealth,  which  could  give  he  gentry  a footing 
among  the  aristocracy,  could  only  come  from  the  mercan- 
tile classes,  and  the  rich  merchant’s  daughter  who  was 
married  to  a country  gentleman  soon  succeeded  in  bring- 
ing her  relations  into  his  set.  Towards  the  end,  therefore, 
of  the  last  century,  we  find  three  classes  between  the 
Court  and  the  people,  namely,  the  noble,  the  ^‘gentle,  ' 
and  the  rich ; in  other  words,  rank,  birth,  and  wealth 
were  the  requisites  of  society.  ^ The  higher  classes  were 
still  the  best  educated,  but  the  wealthy  looked  to  educa- 
tion to  fit  them  for  the  circles  of  the  gentry,  and  women 
oeing  better  educated  took  a more  important  place  in  so- 
cial arrangements. 

In  this  century  these  classes  began  to  draw  together 
The  noble  sought  wives  among  the  rich ; the  rich  becamtj 
gentle  in  a,  cojiple  of  generations  ; and  tn  3 gentry  became 
*lich  by  marriage. 

But  if  a merchant  or  successful  speculator  were  ad 
mitted  in  higher  circles,  the  professional  man,  who  could 
go  to  Court  and  had  always  taken  precedence  of  trade, 
COuKl  not  be  excluded.  Hitherto,  tlie  liberal  professkni 


IHE  MIDDLE  CLASSES. 


61 


and  literature  had  occupied  a kind  of  dependent  positioi. 
The  clergyman  was  almost  a retainer  of  the  squire’s,  the 
lawyer  was  the  landowner’s  agent,  the  doctor  had  Ih 
great  patron,  and  the  writer  often  lived  on  the  money  giv 
3n  for  fulsome  dedications  to  those  noblemen  and  olher 
wlio  wished  to  appear  in  the  light  of  a Maecenas.  These 
distinctions,  however,  were  lost  in  great  cities,  and  th\2 
growth  of  the  population  gave  to  at  least  three  of  these 
professions  a public  which  paid  as  well  as,  and  exacted  less 
adulation  than  the  oligarchy;  not  indeed  giving  less 
trouble,  for  we  have  now  a thousand  tastes  to  study  in- 
stead of  one,  a thousand  prejudices  to  respect ; and  if  we 
do  not  write  fulsome  dedications  to  the  public,  we  are  no 
less  compelled  to  insert  every  here  and  there  that  artful 
flattery  which  makes  John  Bull  appear  in  the  light  of— 
I do  not  say  the  best  and  most  noble — but  the  richest, 
most  powerful,  most  thriving,  most  honest,  most  amiably 
faulty,  but  magnanimously  virtuous  of  publics. 

But  I am  not  flattering  you,  Mr.  Bull,  when  I tell  you 
that  in  respect  of  your  middle  classes  you  have  made  a 
rast  step  in  advance  of  all  other  nations.  For  what  does 
the  middle-class  mean?  Not  twenty  years  ago,  it  was 
taken  to  represent  only  the  better  portion  of  the  commer- 
cial and  lower  half  of  professional  society.  I well  ro 
member  with  what  a sneer  some  people  spoke  of  a mer- 
chant, and  the  gulf  that  the  barrister  and  physiciat 
asserted  to  exist  between  them  and  the  lawyer  and  geno^ 
•nl  practitioner.  And  how  is  it  now  ? How  many  gen 
lomen  of  old  family  would  now  decline  an  introduction  t 
4 well-educated  merchant?  How  many  rather  would  no 
recommend  their  sons  to  be  constant  visitors  on  the  mer- 
chant’s wife  and  daughters?  Is  it  not  the  barrister  whi 


62 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


Hatters  the  attorney,  and  where  is  the  distincti<.n  be- 
tween physician  and  surgeon  ? No  : the  middle-class  has 
in  enormous  extent  novr,  and  even  the  landed  gentry, 
9flioD  brought  to  town,  mingle  freely  and  gladly  with 
(i^mmerco  and  the  professions.  In  fact,  we  are  more  an^l 
more  widening  our  range.  The  nobleman  takes  a part* 
aeisliip  in  a brewery,  on  the  one  hand;  on  the  other,  the 
liaberdasher  sits  in  Parliament,  and  sends  his  son  to  Ox- 
ford. The  gentry,  throwing  over  birth  as  a useless  com- 
modity, rush  into  commerce  and  the  professions.  Dukes 
and  peers  are  delighted  to  make  money  by  writing,  if 
"hey  do  not  confess  to  writing  for  money.  The  merchant 
is  at  last  received  at  Court ; the  banker  is  a peer  ; the 
shop-boy  who  has  worked  his  way  to  the  Woolsack,  brings 
with  him  a sympathy  for  shop-boys  (perhaps)^  which 
lessens  the  gulf  between  trade  and  aristocracy ; and  be 
holding  these  and  many  other  wonders,  you  exclaim  with 
glee : It  is  an  age  of  unity,  caste  is  obliterated,  and 

m another  fifty  years  even  the  distinction  of  a title  wil) 
be  gone,  and  the  middle-class  will  comprise  all  who  are 
educated. 

Softly,  softly,  my  friend;  no  Utopias,  if  you  please. 
Caste  may  be  abolished  in  name,  but  it  will  exist  in  feel- 
ing for  many  an  age,  though  its  limitations  be  not  those 
of  rank,  birth,  and  wealth.  We  used  to  say  at  the  uni- 
versity that  the  larger  a college,  the  smaller  its  sets,  and 
that  you  knew  more  men  in  a small  college  than  you  pos- 
ibly  could  in  a large  one.  It  is  the  same  with  the  middle 
or  as  it  is  now  called  the  educated  class.  The  larger  it 
grows,  the  more  it  will  split  up  into  classes  which  maj 
have  no  name,  and  may  be  separated  by  very  slight  dis- 
inctions,  but  which  will  in  reality:  if  not  in  appearance. 


THE  MIDDLE  CliASSEo 


da 

be  as  far  apart  in  feeling  as  the  old  castes  woie  ai  ever, 
respect.  In  short,  ‘^good  society’’  has  substituted  for  Ou 
old  distinctions  of  rank,  birth,  wealth,  and  intellectual  p!>> 
ominence,  one  less  distinct  in  appearance,  far  more  subtle 
but  far  more  difficult  to  attain.  Indeed,  rank  and  birtl 
were  gifts,  wealth  often  came  by  inheritance,  and  a 
might  be  born  a wit  or  a genius,  but  that  which  has  taken 
their  place  as  a test  can  be  acquired  only  by  education, 
careful  study,  and  observation,  followed  up  by  practice. 
It  goes  by  the  name  of  “breeding,”  and  when  people  talk 
to  you  of  innate  good  breeding,  they  speak  of  an  impos- 
sibility. Some  of  its  necessary  qualities  may  be  innate, 
md  these  may  show  themselves  on  occasions,  and  be  mis- 
taken for  good-breeding  itself,  but  a further  acquaintance 
may  reveal  the  possessor  in  a different  light.  Good-breed- 
ing is  only  acquired,  being  taught  us  by  our  nurses,  our 
parents,  our  tutors,  our  school-fellows,  our  friends,  our 
enemies  still  more,  and  our  experience  everywhere  ; and  yet 
Qot  one  of  these  teachers  may  possess  it  themselves ; many, 
Eis  nurses  and  school-fellows,  certainly  do  not.  It  is  breed- 
ing which  now  divides  the  one  class  you  claim  to  exist, 
into  so  many  classes,  all  of  which  are  educated.  One  set 
has  no  bleeding  at  all,  another  has  a little,  another  more, 
another  enough,  and  another  too  much — for  this  also  is 
possible—^and  between  that  which  has  none,  and  that  which 
has  enough,  there  are  more  shades  than  in  the  rainbow. 

We  can  now  therefore  speak  of  the  principal  requisites 
of  good  society,  of  which  good-breeding — that  is,  enough 
and  not  too  much  of  it — is  the  first.  I have  shown  that, 
antil  the  development  of  a middle  class,  the  best  society 
^not  in  a moral,  but  general  point  of  view)  was  to  be 
found  among  the  aristocracy  Hence  the  word  “ aristO' 


^4 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


sratic”  has  come  to  mean  good  for  society/’  and  tlierefcri 
while  I premise  that  the  best  society  is  not  no"^  high  societj? 
either  by  wealth,  birth,  or  distinction,  I shall  alsoprcmisf 
that  good  society  is  essentially  aristocratic  in  the  sense  in 
r^l  ich  we  speak  of  aristocratic  beauty,  aristocratic  bearing 
aristocratic  appearance  ani  manners. 

The  first  indispensable  requisite  for  good  society  is  eJn  * 
nation.  By  this  I do  not  mean  the  so-called  finished 
education”  of  a university  or  a boarding-school.  I think 
it  will  be  found  that  these  establishments  put  their  finish' 
somewhere  in  the  middle  of  the  course ; they  may  pos- 
sibly finish  you  as  far  as  teachers  can,  but  the  education 
which  is  to  fit  you  for  good  society  must  be  pursued  long 
after  you  leave  them,  as  it  ought  to  have  been  begun  long 
before  you  went  to  them.  This  education  should  have 
commenced  with  developing  the  mental  powers,  and  espe- 
cially the  comprehension.  A man  should  be  able,  in 
order  to  (nter  into  conversation,  to  catch  rapidly  the 
meaning  of  anything  that  is  advanced  ; for  instance,  though 
you  know  nothing  of  science,  you  should  not  be  obliged  to 
4tare  and  be  silent,  when  a man  who  does  understand  it  is 
xplaining  a new  discovery  or  a new  theory ; though  you 
/lave  not  read  a word  of  Blackstone,  your  comprehensive 
powers  should  be  sufficiently  acute  to  enable  you  to  take 
in  the  statement  that  may  be  made  of  a recent  cause  ; 
though  you  may  not  have  read  some  particular  book,  you 
should  be  capable  of  appreciating  the  criticism  which  you 
tear  of  it.  Without  such  a power — simple  enough  and 
easily  attained  by  attention  and  practice,  yet  too  seldom 
met  with  in  general  society — a conversation  which  departs 
from  the  most  ordinary  topics  cannot  be  maintained  with- 
out the  risk  of  lapsing  into  a lecture ; with  such  a powei 


CULTIVATION  OF  TASTE. 


6i 


society  becomes  instructive  as  well  as  amusing,  and  yot 
have  m remorse  at  an  evening’s  end  at  having  wasted  three 
or  four  hours  in  profitless  banter  or  simpering  platitudes. 
This  facility  of  comprehension  often  startles  us  in  some 
^omen,  whose  education  we  know  to  have  been  poor,  ani 
^hose  reading  is  limited.  If  they  did  not  rapidly  receive 
your  ideas,  they  could  not  therefore  be  fit  companions  fof 
intellectual  men,  and  it  is  perhaps  their  consciousness  of 
a deficiency  which  leads  them  to  pay  the  more  attention 
to  what  you  say.  It  is  this  which  makes  married  women 
ic  much  more  agreeable  to  men  of  thought  than  young 
ladies,  as  a rule,  can  be,  for  they  are  accustomed  to  the 
society  of  a husband,  and  the  effort  to  be  a companion  to  his 
mind  has  engrafted  the  habit  of  attention  and  ready  reply. 

No  less  important  is  the  cultivation  of  taste.  If  it  is 
tiresome  and  deadening  to  be  with  people  who  cannot  un- 
derstand, and  will  not  even  appear  to  be  interested  in  your 
better  thoughts,  it  is  almost  repulsive  to  find  a man,  still 
more  a woman,  insensible  to  all  beauty,  and  immovable  by 
I nj  horror.  I remember  passing  through  the  galleries  of 
Hampton  Court  with  a lady  of  this  kind  in  whom  I had 
in  vain  looked  for  enthusiasm.  Ah  !”  I exclaimed, 
we  passed  into  a well-known  gallery,  we  are  come  at 
last  to  Raphael’s  cartoons.” 

‘‘Are  we?”  she  asked  languidly,  iis  we  stood  in  the 
presence  of  those  grand  conceptions.  “ Deal  me,  how 
tigh  the  fountain’s  playing  in  the  court !” 

Ill  the  present  day  an  acquaintance  with  art,  eve  i 
you  have  no  love  for  it,  is  a sme  qu  i non  of  good  society. 
Music  and  painting  are  subjects  which  will  be  .disOussed 
in  every  direction  around  you.  It  is  only  in  bad  society 
that  people  go  to  the  opera,  concerts  and  art-exhibit:u  i 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


merely  because  it  is  the  fashion,  or  to  say  they  have  been 
there ; and  if  you  confessed  to  such  a weakness  in  really 
good  society,  you  would  be  justly  voted  a puppy.  For 
this,  too  some  book-knowledge  is  indispensable.  You 
diould  at  least  know  the  names  of  the  more  celebrated 
artists,  composers,  architects,  sculptors,  and  so  forth,  and 
5h«)uld  be  able  to  approximate  their  several  schools. 

I have  just  bought  a Hobbema,’’  was  said  to  Mrs.  B 
the  other  day.  ‘‘  What  shall  you  put  into  it  ?”  said  ahe^ 
hoping  to  conceal  her  ignorance. 

So  too,  you  should  know  pretty  accurately  the  pronun- 
ciation of  celebrated  names,  or,  if  not,  take  care  not  tc 
use  them.  An  acquaintance  of  mine  is  always  talking 
about  pictures,  and  asks  me  how  I like  jHannibal  Carraori, 
and  GAarlanda^o.  It  was  the  same  person  who,  seeing  at 
the  bottom  of  a rare  engraving  the  name  Raphael  Menga,” 
said  in  a kind  of  musing  rapture,  ‘‘  Beautiful  thing,  in- 
deed, quite  in  Raphael’s  earlier  style  ; you  can  trace  the 
influence  of  Perugino  in  that  figure.”  So,  too,  it  will 
never  do  to  be  ignorant  of  the  names  and  approximate 
ages  of  great  composers,  especially  in  London,  where  music 
is  so  highly  appreciated  and  so  common  a theme.  It  will 
be  decidedly  condemnatory  if  you  talk  of  the  new  opera, 
‘‘Don  Giovanni,”  or  RossinVs  “ Trovatore  or  are  igno- 
rant who  composed  “ Fidelio,”  and  in  what  opera  occur 
such  common  pieces  as  “ Ciascun  lo  dice,”  or  “ II  segreto.’ 

I do  not  say  that  these  trifles  are  indispensable,  and  wher 
a man  has  better  knowledge  to  offer,  especially  with  genius, 
or  “cleverness”  to  back  it,  he  will  not  only  be  pardoned 
for  an  ignorance  of  them,  but  can  even  take  a high  tone 
and  profess  indifference  or  contempt  of  them.  But  at  the 
same  time  such  ignorance  stamps  an  ordinary  man,  and 


COXVERSAllON. 


61 


hinders  conversatijn.  On  the  oilier  hand,  tlu  best  society 
will  not  endure  dilettantism,  and  whatever  the  knowledge 
a man  may  possess  of  any  art,  he  must  not  display  it 
as  to  make  the  ignorance  of  others  painful  to  them. 
are  gentlemen,  not  picture-dealers.  But  this  applies 
every  topic.  To  have  only  one  or  two  subjects  to  conversi 
on,  and  to  discourse  rather  than  talk  on  them,  is  always 
ill-bred,  whether  the  theme  be  literature  or  horse-flesh. 
The  Newmarket  lounger  would  probably  denounce  the 
former  as  a bore,’^  and  call  us  pedants  for  dwelling  on 
it ; but  if,  as  is  too  often  the  case,  he  can  give  us  nothing 
more  general  than  a discussion  of  the  ^‘points’’  of  a 
mare  that  perhaps  we  have  never  seen,  he  is  as  great  a 
pedant  in  his  way. 

Reason  plays  a less  conspicuous  part  in  good  society, 
because  its  frequenters  are  too  reasonable  to  be  mere 
reasoners.  A disputation  is  always  dangerous  to  temper, 
and  tedious  to  those  who  cannot  feel  as  eager  as  the  dis- 
putants ; a discussion,  on  the  other  hand,  in  which  every- 
body has  a chance  of  stating  amicably  and  unobtrusively 
his  or  her  opinion,  must  be  of  frequent  occurrence.  But 
to  cultivate  the  reason,  besides  its  high  moral  value,  has 
the  advantage  of  enabling  one  to  reply  as  well  as  attend 
to  the  opinions  of  others.  Nothing  is  more  tedious  or  dis- 
heartening than  a perpetual  Yes,  just  so,”  and  nothing 
more.  Conversation  must  never  be  one-sided.  Then, 
4gain,  the  reason  enables  us  to  support  a fancy  or  opinion, 
when  we  are  asked  why  we  think  so  and  sc.  To  reply^ 
‘‘  1 don’t  know,  but  ‘='till  I think  so,”*  is  silly  in  a man 
ind  tedjous  in  a woman.  But  there  is  a part  of  our  edu- 
cation so  important  and  so  neglected  in  our  schools  and 
colleges,  that  it  cannot  be  too  highly  impressed  on  parents 


68 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


on  the  one  hand,  and  young  people  on  the  other.  I meat 
that  which  we  learn  first  of  all  things,  yet  often  have  not 
learned  fully  when  Death  eases  us  of  the  necessity— -th a 
art  of  speaking  our  own  language.  What  can  Greek  and 
Latin,  French  and  German,  be  for  us  in  our  every-  da^ 
life,  if  we  have  not  acquired  this  ? We  are  often  encour 
aged  to  raise  a laugh  at  Doctor  Syntax  and  the  tyrannj 
of  Grammar,  but  we  may  be  certain  that  more  misunder- 
standings, and  therefore  more  diflBculties,  arise  between 
men  in  the  commonest  intercourse  from  a want  of  gram 
matical  precision,  than  from  any  other  cause.  It  was  once 
the  fashion  to  neglect  grammar,  as  it  now  is  with  certain 
people  to  write  illegibly,  and  in  the  days  of  Goethe,  a 
man  thought  himself  a genius  if  he  could  spell  badly. 
How  much  this  simple  knowledge  is  neglected  in  England, 
even  among  the  upper  classes,  is  shown  by  the  results  of 
the  examinations  for  the  army  and  the  civil  services ; how 
valuable  it  is,  is  now  generally  acknowledged  by  men  of 
sound  sense.  Precision  and  accuracy  must  begin  in  the 
very  outset ; and  if  we  neglect  them  in  grammar,  we  shall 
scarcely  acquire  them  in  expressing  out  thoughts.  But 
since  there  is  no  society  without  interchange  of  thought, 
and  since  the  best  society  is  that  in  which  the  best  thoughts 
are  interchanged  in  the  best  and  most  comprehensible  man- 
ner, it  follows  that  a proper  mode  of  expressing  ourselves 
is  indispensable  co  good  society. 

There  is  one  poor  neglected  letter,  the  subject  of  a 
poetical  charade  by  Byron,  which  people  in  the  present 
day  have  made  the  test  of  fitness  for  good  society.  For 
my  part,  I would  sooner  associate  with  a man  who  dropped 
that  eighth  lett^  of  our  alphabet  than  with  one  who  spoke 
had  grammar  and  expressed  himself  ill.  But  if  he  hai 


language: 


69 


not  learned  to  pronounce  a letter  properly,  it  is  scaioely 
probable  that  he  will  have  studied  the  art  of  speech  at  all. 
ft  is  amusing  to  hear  the  ingenious  excuses  made  by 
people  for  this  neglect.  ‘^Mrs.  A — one  person  tells 
u,  is  a woman  of  excellent  education.  You  must  not 
le  surprised  at  her  dropping  her  it  is  a Staffordshire 
luvbit,  and  she  has  lived  all  her  life  in  that  county.’’  I 
&ney  that  it  is  not  Staffordshire  or  any  other  shire  that 
can  be  .^addled  with  the  fault.  It  is  simply  a habit  of  ill- 
bred  people  everywhere  throughout  the  three  kingdoms. 
L^oi  is  the  plea  of  dialect  any  real  excuse.  It  is  a pecu- 
liarity of  Middlesex  dialect  to  put  a for  a and  a w 
(br  a V.  Would  any  one  on  that  account  present  Mr. 
Samivel  Veller  as  a gentleman  of  good  education,  with  a 
flight  peculiarity  of  dialect  in  his  speech  ? Good  society 
uses  the  same  language  everywhere,  and  dialects  ought  to 
be  got  rid  of  in  those  who  would  frequent  it.  The  language 
of  Burns  may  be  very  beautiful  in  poetry,  and  the  bal- 
lads of  Moore  may  gain  much  from  a strong  Irish  brogue, 
but  if  we  object  to  London  slang  in  conversation,  we  have 
as  much  right  to  object  to  local  peculiarities  which  make 
your  speech  either  incomprehensible  or  ridiculous ; and 
certain  it  is  that  the  persons  whose  strong  nationality  in- 
duces them  to  retain  their  Scotch  or  Irish  idiom  and 
accent,  are  always  ready  to  protest  against  Americanisms, 
and  would  be  very  much  bothered  if  a Yorkshire  landownei 
were  to  introduce  his  local  drawl  into  the  drawing-room, 
fjccalism  is  not  patriotism  and  therefore  until  the  Union 
b dissolved,  we  must  request  people  to  talk  English  in 
Er^gli^h  society. 

The  art  of  expressing  one’s  thoughts  neatly  and  suita- 
bly is  one  "whit^h,  in  the  neglect  of  rhetoric  as  a study  wi 


70 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


must  practice  for  ourselves.  The  commonest  tl ought 
well  put  is  more  useful  in  a social  point  of  view  than  the 
most  brilliant  idea  jumbled  out.  What  is  well  expiessc'l 
is  easily  seized  and  therefore  readily  responded  to ; th 
most  poetic  fancy  may  be  lost  to  the  hearer  if  the  Ian 
guage  which  conveys  it  is  obscure.  Speech  is  the  gift 
which  distinguishes  man  from  animals,  and  makes  society 
possible.  He  has  but  a poor  appreciation  of  his  high  pri- 
vilege as  a human  being,  who  neglects  to  cultivate  ‘‘  God’s 
great  gift  of  speech.” 

As  I am  not  writing  for  men  of  genius,  but  for  ordina- 
ry beings,  I am  right  to  state  that  an  indispensable  part 
of  education  is  a knowledge  of  English  literature.  But 
hoio  to  read  is,  for  society,  more  important  than  what  we 
read  The  man  who  takes  up  nothing  but  a newspaper, 
but  reads  it  to  think,  to  deduct  conclusions  from  its  pre- 
mises, and  form  a judgment  on  its  opinions,  is  more  fitced 
for  society  than  he,  who,  having  a large  box  regularly 
from  Mudie’s,  and  devoting  his  whole  day  to  its  conlents, 
swallows  it  all  without  digestion.  In  fact,  the  mind  must 
be  treated  like  the  body,  and  however  great  its  appetite, 
it  will  soon  fall  into  bad  health,  if  it  gorges  but  does  not 
ruminate.  At  the  same  time  an  acquaintance  with  the 
best  current  literature  is  necessary  to  modern  society,  and 
it  is  not  sufficient  to  have  read  a book  without  being  able 
to  pass  a judgment  on  it.  Conversation  on  literature  i 
impossible,  when  your  respondent  can  only  say,  Yes,  I 
like  the  book,  but  I really  don’t  know  why.”  Or  what  can 
we  do  with  the  young  lady  whose  literary  stock  is  as  lim 
ited  as  that  of  the  daughter  of  a late  eminent  member  of 
Parliament,  whom  a friend  of  mine  had  once  to  take  down 
to  dinner  ? 


LANGUAGE  AND  LITERATURE. 


7] 


He  Lad  tried  her  on  music  and  painting  in  \ain.  She 
haa  no  taste  for  either.  Society  was  as  barren  a theme, 
for  papa  did  not  approve  of  any  but  dinner  parties. 

“ Then  I suppose  you  read  a great  deal?”  asked  m 
^iiend. 

Oh,  yes  ! we  read.” 

Light  literature  ?” 

Oh,  yes  * light  literature.” 

‘^Novels,  for  instance ?” 

‘ Oh,  yes  ! novels.” 

Do  you  like  Dickens?” 

“We  don’t  read  Dickens.” 

“ Oh  ! I see  you  are  of  Thackeray’s  party.” 

“ We  never  read  Thackeray.” 

“ Then  you  are  lomantic,  and  devoted  to  Bu)wei 
L-/^n?” 

‘ Never,”  replied  the  young  lady,  rather  shocked. 

Then  which  is  your  favorite  novelist?” 

Tames,”  she  replied  triumphantly. 

“ Ah  !”  my  friend,  reviving  a little,  “ James  i 
exciUng.” 

“ Oh,  yes  * we  like  his  books  so  much  ! Papa  reads 
them  aloud  U 4S,  but  then  he  misses  out  all  the  exciting 
parts.” 

After  tliat  iiy  friend  found  his  knife  and  fork  better 
company  than  lu'*  neighbor. 

An  acquaintance  with  old  English  literature  is  not  fier- 
haps  indispensable  but  it  gives  a man  great  advantage 
m all  kinds  of  sociciy,  and  in  some  he  is  at  constant  loss 
without  it.  The  same  may  be  said  of  foreign  literature, 
which  in  the  present  day  is  almost  as  much  discussed  as 
mr  own ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  an  acquaintance  witk 


72  THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 

home  and  foreign  politics;  with  current  history,  uid  everj 
subject  of  passing  interest,  is  absolutely  neces.  ary  ; and  a 
poison  of  sufiScient  intelligence  to  join  in  good  society  can- 
net  dispense  with  his  daily  newspaper,  his  literary  jour 
nal  and  the  principal  quarterly  reviews  and  magazines 
The  cheapness  of  every  kind  of  literature,  the  facilities 
of  our  well-stored  circulating  libraries,  our  public  reading- 
rooms  and  numerous  excellent  lectures  on  every  possible 
subject,  leave  no  excuse  to  poor  or  rich  for  an  ignorance 
of  any  of  the  topics  discussed  in  intellectual  society.  You 
may  forget  your  Latin,  Greek,  French,  German,  and 
Mathematics,  but  if  you  frequent  good  company  you  wil.’ 
a ever  be  allowed  to  forget  that  you  are  a citizen  of  tlu 
world 

The  respect  for  moral  character  is  a distinguishing 
mark  of  good  society  in  this  country  as  compared  with  that 
of  the  Continent.  No  rank,  no  wealth,  no  celebr'ty  will 
induce  a well-bred  English  lady  to  admit  to  her  drawing- 
room  a man  or  woman  whose  character  is  known  to  be 
bad.  Society  is  a severe  censor,  pitiless  and  remorseless. 
The  woman  who  has  once  fallen,  the  man  who  has  once 
lost  his  honor,  may  repent  for  years ; good  society  shuts 
its  doors  on  them  once  and  for  ever.  Perhaps  this  is  the 
mly  case  in  which  the  best  society  is  antagonistic  to  Chris  * 
tianity  ; but,  in  extenuation,  it  must  be  remembered  tha** 
there  is  no  court  in  which  to  try  tho?e  who  sin  against  it 
Society  itself  is  the  court  in  which  are  judged  those  man^ 
offences  which  the  law  cannot  reach,  and  this  inclemency 
>f  the  world,  this  exile  for  life  which  it  pronounces,  must 
De  regarded  as  the  only  deterrent  against  certain  sins. 
There  is  little  or  no  means  of  punishing  the  seducer,  the 
cheat,  the  habitual  drunkard  and  gambler,  and  men  and 


MORAL  CHARACTER. 


78 


iromen  whc  ndulge  in  illicit  pleasures  except  this  one 
verdict  of  perpetual  expulsion  pronounced  '■  ^ gjod  society 
Uften  is  it  given  without  a fair  trial,  on  the  ref  ort  of  a 
landerer;  often  it  falls  upon  the  wu*ong  head;  often  U 
iii'oves  its  injustice  in  ignoring  the  vices  of  one  and  ful 
minating  against  those  of  another  : often,  by  its  implaci* 
bility,  drives  the  offender  to  despair,  and  makes  the  one 
false  step  lead  to  the  ruin  of  a life  : but  it  must  be  re- 
meiiibered  what  interests  society  has  to  protect — the  puri- 
fy of  daughters,  wives  and  sisters,  the  honor  of  sons ; it 
must  be  allowed  that  its  means  of  obtaining  evidence  is 
very  slight ; and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  it  cannot  insti- 
mte  an  inquisition  into  the  conduct  of  all  its  members, 
since  the  mere  suspicion  which  such  an  inquiry  would  ex 
tjite  is  su^cient  to  ruin  a character  that  might  prove  to 
Oe  innocent.  Society,  then,  is  forced  to  judge  by  common 
fepoii.,  and  though  it  may  often  judge  wrongly,  it  gene- 
rally errs  on  the  safe  side.  What  it  still  wants,  and  must 
perhaps  always  w^ant,  is  some  check  on  the  slander  and 
calumny  which  misleads  its  judgment.  We  w^ant  some 
tribunal  which,  without  blasting  a reputation,  can  call  to 
account  the  low  sneak  who  lounges  into  a club-room,  and 
actuated  by  pique,  whispers  into  a frind’s  ear,  in  strict- 
est confidence,’’  some  silly  slur  on  a lady’s  character, 
knowing  that  it  will  pass  from  mouth  to  mouth,  growing 
bigger  and  bigger,  and  that  it  can  never  be  traced  back  to 
the  original  utterer.  We  want  to  put  down  those  old 
aaids  and  dowagers  who  shake  their  cork-screw  ringlets 
•t  the  mention  of  a name,  and  look  as  if  they  knew  a 
great  deal  which  they  would  not  tell.  We  want  gossip 
and  scandal  to  be  held  a sin,  as  it  is  already  held  bad 
taste,  and  a higher  tone  which  shall  reject  as  inventiong 
4 


74 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


the  pot-house  stories  of  grooms  and  lacqueys,  ar  d receive 
with  greater  caution  the  gossip  of  the  club-room.  Ho\i 
many  a fair  fame  of  a virtuous  girl  is  ruined  by  the  mai. 
.^lie  has  rejested ; how  many  an  lago  lives  and  thrives  '.n 
society  to  the  present  day ; how  many  a young  man  is 
blackened  by  a rival ; how  many  a man  we  meet  in  tlie 
best  circles  whose  chambers  are  the  scene  of  debauchery, 
or  who  carries  on  an  illicit  connexion  in  secret,  unexposed 
These  things  make  us  bitter  to  the  world,  but,  if  we  can- 
not see  the  remedy,  we  must  endure  them  silently.  Oh  ! 
if  the  calumniator,  male  or  female,  could  be  hanged  as 
high  as  Haman,  if  the  ninth  commandment,  like  the 
eighth,  could  be  punished  with  death,  many  a hopeful  ca- 
reer were  not  blighted  at  its  outset,  many  an  innocent 
woman  were  not  driven  from  her  home  and  thrust  into 
the  very  jaws  of  sin,  and  the  world  would  be  happier  and 
far  more  Christian. 

In  the  meantime  good  society  discountenances  gossip, 
and  that  is  all  it  can  do  for  the  present.  Fathers  and 
husbands  must  be  careful  whom  they  introduce  to  their 
families,  and  every  one  should  beware  how  they  repeat 
what  has  been  told  them  of  their  neighbors.  There  is  in 
the  church  of  Walton-on-Tharnes  a kind  of  iron  gag 
made  to  fit  upon  the  face,  and  bearing  this  inscription  : 

“ Thys  is  a brydel 

F or  the  women  of  Walton  who  speake  so  ydel.’ 

I know  not  w’hat  poor  creature,  blasted  by  a venomous 
tongue,  invented  and  gave  to  the  church  this  quaint 
relic  ; 1 only  wish  that  every  parish  church  had  one,  and 
tb.at  every  slanderer  might  be  forced  to  wear  it.  One  ! 
did  I say  ? we  should  want  a hundred  in  some  parishes 
all  in  use  at  tb.e  sam®  time 


TEMPER. 


7? 

A (li.^courteous  but  well-merited  reply  which  1 heard 
the  other  day,  reminds  me  that  good  temper  is  an  essen- 
tial of  good  society.  A young  lady,  irritated  because  a 
gentleman  would  not  agree  with  her  on  some  matter. 
ler  balance,  and  irritably  exclaimed,  ^ Oh,  Mr.  A — , yo  i 
jsave  only  two  ideas  in  your  head.’'  You  are  right/ 
replied  the  gentleman,  I have  only  two  ideas,  and  cin 
of  them  is  that  you  do  not  know  how  to  behave  yourself' 

Tamper  has  a great  deal  to  answer  for,  and  it  would 
take  a volume  to  discuss  its  effect  on  the  affairs  of  the 
\^orld.  It  is  a vice  of  old  and  young  of  both  sexes,  ol 
high  and  low,  even  I may  say  of  good  and  bad,  though  a 
person  who  has  not  conquered  it  scarcely  merits  the  name 
of  good,  though  he  should  regenerate  mankind.  Mon- 
archs  have  lost  kingdoms,  maidens  lovers,  and  everybody 
friends,  by  the  irritation  of  a moment,  and  in  society  a 
display  of  ill-temper  is  fatal  to  harmony,  and  thus  de- 
stroys the  first  principle  of  social  meetings.  We  pardon 
it,  we  overlook  it,  and  sometimes  it  even  amuses  us,  but, 
sooner  or  later,  it  must  chill  back  love  and  freeze  friend- 
ship. In  short,  it  makes  society  unbearable,  and  is  justly 
pronounced  to  be  disgustingly  vulgar.  I used  once  to 
frequent  the  house  of  a man  who  had  every  requisite  for 
being  charming  but  that  of  a command  of  temper.  II? 
gave  dinner-parties  which  ought  to  have  been  most  pleas 
ant.  He  was  well-educated,  well-informed,  well-mannereJ 
in  every  other  respect.  The  first  time  I dined  with  him 
before  I had  seen  anything  of  this  failing,  I was  horror 
struck  by  hearing  him  say  to  a servant,  Confound  you, 
will  you  take  that  dish  to  the  other  end  ! ” Of  course  J 
naid  no  attention,  but  hoping  to  cover  him,  talked  loudlj 
and  eagerly.  It  was  useless.  The  servant  blundered 


76 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


and  tlie  master  thundered,  till  at  last  there  was  a dead 
silence  round  the  table,  and  we  all  looked  down  into  our 
plates.  The  mistress  of  the  house  made  the  matter  worse 
by  putting  in  at  last,  *‘My  dear  Charles,  do  be  mode- 
rate,’’ and  the  irritable  man  only  increased  the  awkward 
ness  by  an  irritable  reply.  I overlooked  this,  and  dinee 
there  again,  but  only  once.  This  time  it  was  his  daugh 
ter  w ho  offended  by  some  innocent  remark.  Really  you’re 
quite  a fool,  Jane,”  he  said,  turning  savagely  upon  her, 
and  the  poor  girl  burst  into  tears.  Our  appetites  were 
spoiled,  our  indignation  rose,  and  though  we  sat  through 
the  dinner,  we  all  of  us  probably  repeated  Solomon’s 
proverb  about  a dry  morsel  where  love  is,  and  a stalled 
ox  with  contention  thereby,  which  I,  for  one,  interpreted 
to  mean  that  my  chop  and  pint  of  ale  at  home  would,  for 
the  future,  be  far  more  appetitlich  than  my  friend’s  tur- 
tle and  turbot. 

As  there  is  nothing  to  which  an  Englishman  clings  so 
tenaciously  as  his  opinions,  there  are  few  things  which 
rouse  the  temper  so  rapidly  as  an  argument.  In  good 
society  all  disputation  is  eschewed,  and  particularly  that 
which  involves  party  politics  and  sectarian  religion.  It  k 
at  least  wise  to  discover  what  are  the  views  of  your  com- 
pany before  you  venture  on  these  subjects.  Zeal,  how- 
ever well-meant,  must,  as  St.  Paul  warns  us,  often  be 
sacrificed  to  peace ; and  where  you  cannot  agree,  an  I 
feet  that  to  reply  would  lead  you  into  an  argument,  it  i 
best  to  be  silent.  At  the  same  time  there  are  some  oc- 
'^^ions  where  silence  is  servih  No  man  should  sit  stil 
tCj.  hear  sacred  things  blasphemed,  or  his  friend  abused. 
The  gentleman  must  yield  to  the  Man  where  an  athsist 
reviles  Christianity,  a Chartist  abuses  the  Queen,  or  any* 


TEMPER. 


77 


body  speaks  ill  of  the  listener’s  friend  or  relation.  Even 
then  he  best  marks  his  indignation  by  rising  and  leaving 
the  room.  Nor  need  any  man  fear  the  imputation  of 
cowardice,  if  he  curbs  his  anger  at  direct  abuse  of  him^ 
&elf.  A soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath;’’  and  if  he 
cannot  check  his  own  feelings  sufficiently  to  reply  in 
onciliatory  tone,  no  one  can  blame  him  if  cooly  po- 
litely he  expresses  to  his  antagonist  his  opinion  of  his 
bad  manners.  The  feeling  of  the  company  will  always 
go  with  the  man  who  keeps  his  temper,  for  not  only  does 
society  feel  that  to  vent  wrath  is  a breach  of  its  laws,  but 
it  knows,  that  to  conquer  one’s-self  is  a far  more  difficult 
task  than  to  overcome  an  enemy ; and  that,  therefore,  the 
man  who  keeps  his  temper  is  really  strong  and  trulj 
courageous.  In  fact  the  Christian  rule  is  here  (as  ii 
should  always  be)  that  of  society ; and  the  man  who  of 
ters  his  left  cheek  to  the  blow,  displays  not  only  the 
rarest  Christian  virtue,  but  the  very  finest  politeness, 
which,  while  it  teems  with  delicate  irony,  at  once  disarm? 
the  attacker,  and  enlists  the  pity  and  sympathy,  if  no\ 
the  applause,  of  the  bystanders.  Of  course  I speak  of 
blows  metaphorically.  A blow  with  the  hand  is  rarely  if 
ver  given  in  good  society. 

Another  case  in  which  the  Christian  and  the  social 
rule  coincide,  if  not  in  reality  at  least  in  appearance,  is 
tJ'iat  ^f  private  animosities.  Of  the  ‘‘cut,”  as  a neces- 
sary social  weapon,  I shall  speak  elsewhere,  but  t 
Buffit  'es  to  say,  that  when  given  for  the  first  time  wdth  a 
view  to  breaking  off  an  acquaintance,  it  should  not  be 
done  conspicuously,  nor  before  a number  of  people.  It.^ 
object  is  not  to  wound  and  cause  confusion,  but  to  make 
known  to  the  person  “cut”  that  your  feelings  towards 


78 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCJIAL  0 B SI  R VANCES. 


him  are  changed.  In  good  society  no  one  ever  juts  ane 
ther  in  such  a manner  as  to  be  generally  remarked,  ani 
the  reason  is  obvious : It  causes  awkwardness  an  1 confis 
sion  in  the  rest  of  the  company.  It  is  worse  Betwee-^ 
i guest  and  host  the  relation  is  supposed  to  be  friendly 
il  not  so,  it  can  always  be  immediately  discontinued ; si 
:bat  generally  the  ill  wdll  must  be  between  one  guest  and 
another  under  the  same  roof  But  what  does  it  Iheit 
amount  to?  Is  it  not  a slur  upon  your  host’s  judgment? 
Is  it  not  as  much  as  to  say,  “ This  map  is  unfit  for  me 
to  know ; and,  since  you  are  his  friend,  you  must  be  un- 
worthy of  me  too?”  At  any  rate,  it  is  mortifying  to  a 
host  to  find  that  he  has  brought  two  enemies  together, 
and.  with  the  respect  due  from  a guest  to  a host  you  must 
abstain  from  making  his  house  a field  of  battle.  There 
is  no  occasion  for  hypocrisy.  Politeness,  cold  and  distant 
f you  like  it,  can  cost  you  nothing,  and  is  never  taken  to 
mean  friendship.  In  short,  harmony  and  peace  are  the 
rules  of  good  society,  as  of  Christianity,  and  its  denizen* 
can  and  do  throw  aside  the  most  bitter  enmities  when 
meeting  on  the  neutral  ground  of  a friend’s  house.  No; 
is  the  armistice  without  its  value.  Like  that  between 
Austria  and  France,  it  is  not  unfrequently  followed  by 
overtures  of  peace  ; and  I have  known  two  people  who 
had  not  interchanged  two  words  for  a score  of  years 
shake  hands  before  they  left  a house  where  they  had  been 
accidentally  brought  together.  Had  they  not  been  well 
bred  this  reconciliation  could  never  have  taken  place. 

The  relations  of  guest  to  guest  are  not  so  well  under 
stood  in  this  country  as  on  the  Continent.  There  youi 
host’s  friends  are  for  the  time  yo7ir  friends.  When  you 
outer  a room  vou  have  a right  to  speak  to  and  be  ad 


HOSPITALITT. 


<9 


drrssud  by,  ^verybjdy  present.  The  friendship  cf  yjur 
host,  declared,  as  it  were,  in  his  inviting  them  there,  is  ,a 
BiiOicient  recommendation  and  introduction  to  every  one 
ol  his  guests.  If  you  and  they  are  good  enough  for  hire 
to  invite,  you  and  they  are  good  enough  for  each  other  tti 
know,  and  it  is,  therefore,  an  insult  to  your  host  to  re 
main  next  to  a person  for  a long  time  without  addressing 
him.  In  exclusive  England  we  require  that  our  host  or 
hostess  shall  give  a special  introduction  to  every  guest,  but 
m the  best  society  this  is  not  absolutely  necessary.  Ex- 
clusiveness is  voted  to  be  of  bad  style ; and  two  people 
who  sat  next  to  one  another  for  a long  time,  with  no  one 
to  talk  to,  would  be  thought  ill-bred  as  well  as  ridiculous 
if  they  waited  for  the  formal  introduction  to  exchange  a 
few  words,  at  least  at  a party  where  conversation  was  the 
main  object. 

As  we  boast  of  English  hospitality,  it  is  a wonder  that 
we  do  not  better  observe  the  relations  of  host  and  gujest 
On  the  Continent  any  man,  whether  you  know  him  or  not 
who  has  crossed  your  threshold  with  friendly  intent,  is 
your  guest,  and  you  are  bound  to  treat  him  as  one.  Il 
England  a friend  must  introduce  him,  unless  he  has  the 
ingenuity  of  Theodore  Hook,  who  always  introduced  him- 
self where  there  was  a dinner  going  on,  and  managed  to 
make  himself  welcome,  too ; but  among  ill-bred  peopl  ^ 
oven  this  introduction  does  not  suffice,  and  the  vulgai 
O^n  take  pride  to  themselves  in  proving  that  their  houses 
ce  their  castles.  A late  neighbor  of  mine,  of  somewha 
j^v^pery  temper,  used  to  tell  with  glee  how  he  had  lurne- 
ontl;  of  his  house  a gentleman — an  innocent  but  not  attrao- 
fcive  man  - who  had  been  brought  there  by  a common  frierd. 
but  whom  he  did  not  wish  to  know.  I often  thought 


80 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


when  I lieard  the  tale  repeated,  How  little  you  thiul 
you  are  telling  a story  against  yourself!”  So,  too,  wliei 
Arabella,  speaking  of  Charles,  with  whom  she  has  q[uar 
rell‘.*d  tells  me  so  proudly,  1 cut  him  last  night  dead 
and  before  the  whole  party,  to  his  utter  confusion,”  I 
i^hi&pei  to  myself,  ‘^He  may  richly  have  deserved  the 
punishment,  but  I would  not  have  been  the  executioner.” 
In  fact,  whether  as  host  or  guest,  we  must  remember  the 
feelings  of  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  that  a show  of 
animosity  between  any  of  them  always  mars  the  sense  of 
peaceful  enjoyment,  for  which  all  have  met.  To  pick  j 
juarrel,  to  turn  your  back  on  a person,  to  cut  him  openly 
or  to  make  audible  remarks  on  him,  are  displays  of  tern 
per  only  found  in  vulgar  society. 

The  other  requisites  indispensable  for  good  society  wil 
be  found  in  various  chapters  of  this  work.  Confidence 
calm,  and  good  habits,  are  treated  in  the  chapter  on  car- 
riage. Good  manners  is,  more  or  less,  the  subject  of  the 
whole  book,  and  appropriate  dress,  another  indispensable, 
is  discussed  under  that  head.  Accomplishments,  on  which 
I have  given  a chapter,  are  not  generally  considered  in- 
dispensable, and  certainly  a man  or  woman  of  good  educa- 
tion ar.d  good  breeding  could  pass  muster  without  them 
But  they  lend  a great  charm  to  society,  and  in  some  cases 
are  a very  great  assistance  to  it.  Indeed,  there  are  some 
accomplishments  an  ignorance  of  which  may  prove  ex- 
tremely awkward.  Perhaps,  however,  the  most  valuable 
accomplishment  or  rather  art,  especially  in  persons  of 
full  'Rge,  is  that  of  making  society  easy,  and  of  entertain- 
ing.  Riles  and  hints  for  this  will  be  given  in  various 
lections,  but  I may  here  say  that  it  is  an  art  which  de- 
mands no  little  labor  and  ingenuity,  and  if  anybody 


TO  DINNBB-GTVERS. 


8i 

imagines  that  the  offices  of  host  and  hostess  are  sinecures, 
he  is  greatly  mistaken.  The  great  principle  is  that  of 
movement.  According  t3  the  atomic  theory,  warmth  an^ 
brilliance  are  gained  by  the  rapidity  of  the  atoms  abou 
cne  another.  We  are  only  atoms  in  society  after  all,  an 
we  certainly  get  both  warmth  and  brilliance  when  we 
Tolve  round  each  other  in  the  ball-room.  But  it  is  rather 
mental  movement  that  I refer  to  just  now,  although  the 
other  is  by  no  means  unimportant,  and  the  host  and  hostess 
should,  when  possible,  be  continually  shifting  their  places, 
easily  and  gracefully,  talking  to  everybody  more  or  less, 
and  inducing  others  to  move.  But  fliere  must  be  some 
thing  for  the  minds  of  those  assembled  to  dwell  upon 
something  to  suggest  thought,  and  thus  generate  conversa- 
tion. If  the  host  or  hostess  have  themselves  the  talent, 
they  should  do  this  by  continually  leading  the  conversation, 
not  after  the  manner  of  Sydney  Smith,  who,  while  dinner 
was  going  on,  allowed  Mackintosh,  Jeffrey,  and  Stewart,  to 
fall  into  vehement  discussion,  while  he  himself  quietly 
made  an  excellent  meal,  and  prepared  for  better  things. 
The  moment  the  cloth  was  removed,  which  loas  done  ir 
those  days,  the  jovial  wit,  happier  than  his  companions 
who  had  had  more  of  the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow 
of  soul*’  than  of  beef  and  mutton,  would  look  up  and 
make  some  totally  irrelevant  and  irresistible  remark,  ant] 
having  once  raised  the  laugh,  would  keep  an  easy  lead  of 
the  conversation  to  the  end.  But  if  they  have  not  ting 
art,  it  is  highly  desirable,  that  dinner-givers  should  invite 
tneir  regular  talker,  who,  like  the  Roman  parasite,  n con  • 
sideration  of  a good  dinner,  will  always  be  ready  with  a 
fresh  topic  in  case  of  a lull  in  the  conversation  and  alway? 
be  able  to  .ntroduce  it  with  something  smart  and  lively 


82 


THE  SPIRIT  OT  bOCllL  CBSERVAKOES. 


There  is  a hotel  in  the  city  where  a certain  number  if 
Drokefi'down  ecclesiastics  are  always  ‘‘on  hand”  witli  a 
cc'uple  of  sermons  in  pocket.  If  a clergyman  is  called 
suddenly  out  of  town,  or  taken  ill  on  the  Saturday  nigl’t 
or  hindered  from  preaching  by  any  accident,  he  has  only  t: 
send  down  a messenger  and  a reverend  gentleman  flies  t 
him  : the  sermon  is  at  his  service  for  the  sum  of 
guinea,  or  less.  Would  it  not  answer  to  institute  a similai 
establishment  for  the  benefit  of  dinner-givers?  The  only 
question  the  cleric  asks  is,  “High  or  low?”  He  has  a 
sermon  in  each  pocket,  “ high”  in  the  right,  “ low”  in  the 
hjft,  and  produces  the  proper  article,  if  he  does  not  by 
mistake  forget  which  is  in  which,  and  astound  an  evangel- 
ical congregation  with  the  “ symbols  of  the  Church,”  or 
a Tractarian  one  with  the  “doctrine  of  election.”  In 
the  same  way,  the  conviva  would  be  always  ready,  in  full 
dress,  at  six  in  the  evening,  and  having  put  the  question, 
“ Serious  or  gay.  Whig  or  Tory  ?”  bring  out  his  witticisms 
accordingly.  We  do  everything  now-a-days  with  money. 
Mr.  Harker  gives  out  our  toasts,  our  servants  carve  and 
give  out  the  wine  for  us.  The  host  sits  at  the  head  or  side 
of  his' table,  and  only  smiles  and  talks  The  next  gene- 
ration will  make  a further  improvement,  and  the  host  will 
hire  a gentleman  to  do  even  the  smiling  and  talking,  or, 
like  the  Emperor  Augustus,  he  will  just  look  in  on  his 
guests  at  the  middle  of  dinner,  ask  if  the  entremets 
are  good,  and  go  to  his  easy-chair  again  in  the  library 
Of  the  art  of  entertaining  on  various  occasions  I shal 
:reat  under  the  proper  heads,  and  we  come  now  to  the  dis- 
pensables  of  good  society,  which  / take  to  be  wealth,  rank 
birth  and  talent. 

Of  birth  there  is  little  to  say,  because,  if  a man  is  fit 


MERE  WEALTH. 


88 


for  good  societj,  it  can  make  very  little  diffeience  wnethei 
Lis  father  were  a chimney-sweep  or  a chancellor^  at  least  to 
sensible  people.  Indeed,  to  insist  on  good  birth  in  Eng- 
land would  not  only  shut  you  out  from  enjoying  the  socicl^ 
.f  people  of  no  ordinary  stamp,  but  is  now  generally  col 
sidered  as  a cowardly  way  of  asserting  your  superiority^ 
A young  lady  said  to  me  the  other  day,  I wonder  you 
can  visit  the  C.’s  ; their  mother  was  a cook.”  Well,” 
said  I,  it  is  evident  she  did  not  bring  them  up  in  the 
kitchen.”  My  interlocutrix  wore  the  name  of  a celebrated 
poet,  and  was  of  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  England, 
but  I confess  that  I thought  her  remark  that  of  a snob, 
the  more  so  as  the  C.’s  happened  to  be  the  most  agreeable 
people  I knew. 

The  advantages  of  wealth  are  considerable  in  the  for- 
mation of  society.  In  this  country,  where  hospitality 
means  eating  and  drinking,  it  demands  money  to  receive 
your  friends ; and  in  London,  where  a lady  can  with  dif- 
dculty  walk  in  the  streets  unaccompanied,  a carriage  of 
Bome  sort,  in  which  to  visit  them,  becomes  almost  a neces- 
sity if  you  are  to  mix  much  in  the  world.  But  good 
society  would  be  very  limited  if  every  man  required  hi 
• rougham  or  cabriolet.  In  the  metropolis,  again,  a man 
ervant  is  almost  indispensable,  though  not  quite  ; and  if 
you  have  the  moral  courage  to  do  without  one  you  will 
hnd  that  your  small  dinners — always  better  than  larg^ 
•Ties — will  be  more  quietly  served  by  women  than  by  men. 
'iondoners  have  still  to  learn  that  large  pompous  feel 
ags”  are  neither  agreeable  nor  in  good  taste,  and  that 
mning  meetings,  for  the  purpose  of  conversation,  with  aif 
little  ceremony  as  possible,  are  far  /ess  tedious  less  bilioua 
ind  less  expensive. 


84  THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 

They  do  these  things  better  in  Paris,  where  the  dinner 
party  is  an  introduction  of  the  nouveaux  riches.  Theri 
the  X300  year  does  not  exclude  its  owners  from  the  en 
joynient  of  vho  best,  even  the  highest  society.  They  ma} 
he  asked  to  every  ball  and  dinner  of  the  season,  and  art 
not  expected  to  return  them.  A voitiire  de  remise  is 
good  , enough  to  take  them  even  to  the  Tuileries.  The 
size  of  their  apartment  is  no  obstacle  to  their  assembling 
their  friends  simply  for  tea  and  conversation.  If  the  rooms 
are  elegantly  furnished  and  arranged,  and  the  lady  of  the 
house  understands  the  art  of  receiving,  and  selects  her 
guests  rather  for  their  manners  and  conversational  powers 
than  for  position  or  wealth,  their  reception  may  become 
fashionable  at  no  furtlier  expense  than  that  of  a few  simple 
refreshments  which  are  handed  about.  Even  dances  are 
given  without  suppers,  and  no  one  cares  whether  youi 
household  consists  of  a dozen  lacqueys  or  a couple  of  maid- 
servants. 

Mere  wealth,’’  says  Mr.  Hayward,  truly  enough,  ‘‘  can 
do  little,  unless  it  be  of  magnitude  sufficient  to  constitute 
celebrity.”  He  might  have  added,  that  wealth,  without 
breeding,  generally  draws  the  attention  of  others  to  the 
want  of  taste  of  its  possessor,  and  gives  envy  an  object  to 
sneer  at.  I remember  an  instance  of  this  in  a woman  who 
had  recently,  with  her  husband,  returned  from  Australia, 
with  a large  fortune.  I met  her  at  a ball  in  Paris  : she  waa 
magnificently,  almost  regally  dressed,  and  as  she  swept 
^through  the  rooms  people  whispered,  ‘‘That  is  the  rich 

Mrs, .”  I had  not  been  introduced  to  her,  and  had  no 

desire  to  be  so,  but  I could  not  escape  her  vulgarity.  On 
going  to  fetch  a cup  of  chocolate  from  the  buffet  for  my  part- 
ner,  1 bad  to  passj  within  a yard  of  Mrs.  , who  was 


RANK 


8a 


gorging  ices  amid  a crowd  of  rather  inferior  Frenchmen 
there  was  not  the  slightest  fear  of  my  spilling  the  chocolate, 
and  I was  too  far  from  her  to  spoil  her  dress,  had  I been 
awkward  enough  to  do  so  ; but  as  I passed  back,  she  suib 
Icnijr  screamed  out,  in  very  bad  French,  Monsieur,  Mon 
sieur  quoi,  faites-vous,  vous  gatery  mon  robe  !’’  Of  coursi 
everybody  looked  round.  I bowed  low,  and  begged  iiei 
pardon,  assuring  her  that  there  was  not  the  slightest  cause 
for  alarm ; but  she  was  not  satisfied,  and  while  I beat  a 
retreat  I heard  her  loud  voice  denouncing  me  as  a stupid 
fellow,’’  and  so  forth,  and  I soon  found  that  Mrs.  — — 
was  pronounced  to  be  atrociously  vulgar”  as  well  as 
immensely  rich. 

I cannot  think  that  rank  is  a recommendation  to  a man 
with  any  but  vulgar  people.  Not  every  nobleman  is  a 
gentleman,  and  fewer  still  perhaps  bear  that  character  that 
would  entitle  them  to  a free  entr^  e among  the  well-bred. 
On  the  other  hand,  rank  is  a costly  robe,  which  must  be 
worn  as  modestly  as  possible,  not  to  spoil  that  feeling  of 
equality  which  is  necessary  to  the  ease  of  society.  Some 
deference  must  be  paid  to  it,  and  the  man  of  rank  who 
cannot  forget  it,  will  find  himself  as  much  in  the  way  in 
a party  of  untitled  people,  as  an  elephant  among  a troop 
of  jackals.  If  titles  were  as  common  in  England  as  on 
the  Continent,  there  would  be  less  fear  of  a host  devoting 
himself  to  My  Lord  to  the  neglect  of  his  other  guests,  or 
of  those  guests  centering  their  attention  on  the  one  star 
In  Paris,  it  is  only  in  the  vulgar  circles  of  the  Chaussef 
il’Autiu,  that  ^‘Monsieur  le  Comte,”  or  ^‘Monsieur  le 
Marquis,”  is  shown  off  as  a lion;  and  in  the  well-bred 
circles  in  this  country,  the  nobleman  must  be  content  with 
precedence,  and  the  place  of  honor,  and  for  the  rest  be  ai 


S6 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


one  of  the  company.  In  Southern  Germany,  the  distino- 
XiciTTs^ttar'-o^Jjer  way ; the  simple  Herr  is  almost  as  re> 
markable  as  thela^n  (.(f  title  in  England.  In  fact,  every- 
body admitted  to  whatS^there  called  good  society,  has 
^iome  title,  whether  by  birtn5!^'«i£ce  ; and  a man  must  be 
highly  distinguished  by  talents  or  achievements  to  have 
the  entree  of  the  Court.  I found  that  the  Esquire  after 
my  name  was  generally  translated  by  Baron  ; the  trades- 
men raised  it  to  Graf,  or  Count;  and  the  people  who 

knew  all  about  it,’’  called  me  Herr  Esquire  von 

Something  in  the  same  way  are  military  titles  allotted  tc 
civilians  in  some  parts  of  America.  A store-keeper  be- 
comes ‘‘Major;”  a merchant,  “ Colonel;”  and  a man  of 
s^hom  jou  are  to  ask  a favor,  is  always  a “ General.” 

Nothing  can  be  more  ill-judged  than  lion-hunting.  If 
the  premise  with  which  I set  out,  that  society  requires 
real  or  apparent  equality,  be  true,  anything  wEich  raises 
a person  on  a pedestal  unfits  him  for  society.  The  men 
of  genius  are  rarely  gifted  with  social  qualities,  and  the 
only  society  suited  to  them  is  that  of  others  of  the  same 
calibre.  If  Shakspere  were  alive,  and  I acquainted  with 
him,  I would  not  ask  him  to  an  evening  party ; or,  if  I 
did  so,  it  should  be  with  huge  Ben,  and  half-a-dozen  more 
from  the  “ Mermaid,”  and  they  should  have  strict  injunc- 
tions not  to  engross  the  conversation.  If  you  must  have 
a literary  lion  at  your  receptions,  you  should  manage  to 
have  two  or  three,  for  you'  may  be  sure  that  they  will  be- 
have less  arrogantly  in  one  another’s  presence ; or  per- 
k^ps  a better  plan  still,  is  to  invite  a score  of  critics  to 
meet  him ; you  will  then  find  your  show  beast  as  tracta- 
ble ana  as  quiet  as  his  name-sake  in  the  caresses  of  Van 
Amburg  or  Wotnbwell.  The  man  of  science  again,  has 


RANK  AND  DISTINCTION. 


87 


too  lofty  a range  of  thought  to  descend  to  the  ordinary 
topics  of  society ; and  the  bishop  and  distinguished  gene- 
ral usually  bear  about  with  them  the  marks  of  their  pn> 
fession,  which,  for  perfect  ease  and  equality,  should  Jxj 
oencealed.  Distinguished  foreigners,  if  they  are  clean, 
ind  can  talk  English  well,  may  be  very  agreeable,  but 
your  guests  will  often  suspect  them,  and  their  names  must 
be  known  in  England  to  make  them  desirable  in  any  point 
of  view. 

Of  rank  and  distinction,  however,  it  may  be  said,  in 
preference  to  wealth  and  mere  birth,  that  they  are,  whet 
seconded  by  character,  absolute  passports  to  good  society. 
A title  is  presumed  to  be  a certificate  of  education  and 
good  breeding,  while  a celebrity  will  often  be  pardoned  for 
the  want  of  both,  in  virtue  of  the  talents  and  perseverance 
by  which  he  has  raised  himself.  Of  the  two,  the  latter 
excuses  more  our  adulation.  Rank  is  rarely  gained  by 
QQerit,  and  when  it  is  so,  it  is  swamped  by  it.  Macaulay 
ind  Brougham  have  not  gained  a single  step  in  the  esti- 
mation of  well-bred  people  by  being  raised  to  the  peerage, 
and  no  one  would  hesitate  for  a moment  between  them 
and  the  untitled  son  of  a Duke  or  Marquis.  While,  too^ 
we  naturally  fear  the  epithet  of  toady,’’  if  w^e  cultivate 
noblemen  only  for  the  sake  of  their  rank,  ive  may  well 
defend  ourselves  for  the  admiration  which  genius,  perse- 
verance, and  courage  excite.  To  women,  again,  distinc- 
tion is  less  trying,  since  it  takes  them  less  out  of  their 
ordinary  sphere.  They  are  still  women,  still  capable  of 
enjoying  society,  with  two  exceptions,  the  blue-stocking 
and  the  esprit  fort^  neither  of  which  should  ever  be  ad- 
mitted into  good  society. 

But  while  genius  is  scarcely  a recommendation  in  socW 


88 


THE  SPIHIT  OF  SGtJIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


meetings,  there  are  mental  qualities  nearly  allied  to  it 
which  are  the  best  Ave  can  bring  to  them  ; I mean  a thii  k- 
ing  mind  and  a ready  Avit.  The  most  agreeable  men  and 
wnmen  are  those  Avho  think  out  of  society  as  AA^ell  as  in  it 
liOse  Avho  have  mind  AAuthout  affectation,  and  talents  with 
ou;  conceit ; those  who  have  formed,  and  can  form  fresL 
opinions  on  every  subject,  and  to  whom  a mere  word  servos 
as  the  springing-board  from  which  to  rise  to  new  trains  of 
thought.  Where  people  of  this  kind  meet  together,  the 
commonest  subjects  become  matters  of  interest,  and  the 
conversation  groAvs  rapidly  to  brilliance,  even  without  pos 
itive  Avit.  The  man  to  whose  mind  eA^erything  is  a sug- 
gestion, and  whose  Avords  suggest  something  to  everybody, 
is  the  best  man  for  a social  meeting. 

We  have  now  seen  Avhat  are,  and  Avhat  are  not  the  re- 
quisites for  good  society.  High  moral  character,  a polished 
education,  a perfect  command  of  temper,  good  breeding, 
delicate  feeling,  good  manners,  good  habits,  and  a good 
bearing,  are  indispensable.  Wit,  accomplishments,  and 
social  talents  are  great  advantages,  though  not  absolutely 
necessary.  On  the  other  hand,  birth  is  lost  sight  of,  while 
wealth,  rank,  and  distinction,  so  far  from  being  desirable, 
must  be  carefully  handled,  not  to  be  positively  objection- 
able. We  are  now  therefore  enabled  to  offer  a definition 
of  good  society.  It  is,  the  meeting  on  a footing  of  equal- 
ity, and  for  the  purpose  of  mutual  entertainment,  of  men, 
:>f  Avomen,  or  men  and  women  together,  of  gocKl  character, 
gch^d  education,  and  good  breeding. 

But  what  is  the  real  spirit  of  the  observances  whict 
this  society  requires  of  its  frequenters  for  the  preserva 
tiou  of  harmony  and  the  easy  intercourse  of  all  of  them  I 
Certainly,  one  may  have  a spotless  reputation,  a g<y>i  ed 


DEFINITION  OF  GOOD  SOCIETY. 

acatioii,  and  good  breeding,  w-thout  being  either  good  ii 
reality,  or  a Christian.  But  if  we  examine  the  laws  which 
good  society  lays  down  for  our  guidance  and  governancOj 
we  shall  find  without  a doubt,  that  they  are  those  which  a 
eimple  Christian,  desiring  to  regulate  the  meetings  of  a 
number  of  people  who  lacked  the  Christian  feeling,  wculd 
dictate.  I am,  of  course,  quite  aware  that  good  society 
will  never  make  you  a Christian.  You  may  be  charming 
in  a party,  and  every  one  may  pronounce  you  a perfect  and 
agreeable  gentleman  ; but  you  may  go  home  and  get  pri- 
vately intoxicated,vor  beat  your  wife,  or  be  cruel  to  your 
children.  If  society  finds  you  out,  be  sure  it  wdll  punish 
you ; but  society  has  no  right  to  search  your  house,  and 
intrude  upon  your  hearth,  and,  as  you  say,  it  may  be  long 
before  it  finds  you  out.  But,  as  far  as  its  jurisdiction 
exterids^  good  society  can  compel  you,  if  not  to  be  a 
Christian,  at  least  to  act  like  one.  The  difference  between 
the  laws  of  God  and  the  laws  of  men,  is,  that  the  former 
address  the  heart  from  which  the  acts  proceed,  the  latter, 
which  can  only  judge  from  what  they  see,  determine  the 
axjts  without  regard  to  the  heart.  The  one  waters  the 
root,  the  other  the  branches. 

The  law^s  of  society  are  framed  by  the  unanimous  con- 
sent of  men,  and,  in  all  essential  points,  they  differ  very 
little  all  over  the  world.  The  Turk  may  show  his  po- 
liteness by  feeding  you  with  his  fingers,  the  Englishman 
by  carving  your  portion  for  you ; but  the  same  spirit  dic- 
tates both — the  spirit  of  friendliness,  of  goodwill.  Thiis^ 
though  the  laws  of  society  are  necessarily  imperfect,  ans 
moulded  by  traditional  and  local  custom,  and  are  address 
ed  to  the  outer  rather  than  the  inner  man,  their  spirit  . 
civariably  the  same.  The  considerations  which  dictati 


THF  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


them  arc  reducible  to  the  same  law,  and  this  law  fro^ea 
to  be  the  fundamental  one  of  Christian  doctrine.  Thus, 
wdjat  the  heathen  arrives  at  only  by  laws  framed  for  the 
comfort  of  society,  we  possess  at  once  in  virtue  of  our  re 
iigion.  And  it  is  a great  glory  for  a Christian  to  be  abl 
to  say,  that  all  refinement  and  all  civilization  lead  men— 
aa  far  as  their  conversation  is  concerned — to  th<  practice 
of  Christianity.  It  is  a great  satisfaction  tc  feel  that 
Christianity  is  eminently  the  religion  of  civili  ^tio*^  and 
society. 

The  great  law  which  distinguishes  Christ  anity  from 
every  other  creed,  that  of  brotherly  love  and  self-denial 
is  essentially  the  law  which  we  find  at  the  basis  of  all  so- 
cial observances.  The  first  maxim  of  politeness  is  to  be 
agreeable  to  everybody,  even  at  the  expense  of  one’s  own 
comfort.  Meekness  is  the  most  beauciful  virtue  of  the 
Christian ; modesty  the  most  commendable  in  a well-bred 
man.  Peace  is  the  object  of  Christian  la\vs  ; harmony 
that  of  social  observances.  Self-denial  is  the  exercise  of 
the  Christian ; forgetfulness  of  self  that  of  the  well-bred. 
Trust  in  one  another  unites  Christian  communities ; con- 
fidence in  the  good  intentions  of  our  neighbors  is  that 
wdiich  makes  society  possible.  To  be  kind  to  one  another 
is  the  object  of  Christian  converse ; to  entertain  one 
another,  that  of  social  intercourse.  Pride,  selfishness, 
ill-temper,  are  alike  opposed  to  Christianity  and  good 
breeding.  The  one  demands  an  upright  life ; the  other 
requires  the  appearance  of  it.  The  one  bids  us  make  the 
most  of  God’s  gifts  and  in^prove  our  talents ; the  other 
will  not  admit  us  till  we  have  done  so  by  education.  And 
CO  go  a step  farther;  as  a Christian  community  excludes 
Binners  and  unbelievers  from  its  gatherings,  so  a Aocial 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SOCIETY.  9] 

wnimunity  excludes  from  its  meetings  those  of  bad  coar- 
acter,  and  those  who  do  not  subscribe  to  its  laws. 

But  society  goes  farther,  and  appears  to  impose  on  it§ 
members  a number  of  arbitrary  rules,  which  continuallj 
restrict  them  in  their  actions.  It  tells  them  how  tlu) 
must  eat  and  drink  and  dress,  and  walk  and  talk,  and  si 
xjxi.  We  ought  to  be  very  thankful  to  society  for  taking 
so  much  trouble,  and  saving  us  so  much  doubt  and  con- 
fusion. But  if  the  ordinances  of  society  are  examined,  it 
will  be  found  that  while  many  of  them  are  merely  derived 
from  custom  and  tradition,  and  some  have  no  positive  val- 
ue, they  all  tend  to  one  end,  the  preservation  of  harmony 
and  the  prevention  of  one  person  from  usurping  the  rights, 
or  intruding  on  the  province  of  another.  If  it  regulates 
jrour  dress,  it  is  that  there  may  be  an  appearance  of  equal- 
ity in  all,  and  that  the  rich  may  not  be  able  to  flaunt 
their  wealth  in  the  eyes  of  their  poorer  associates.  If, 
for  instance,  it  says  that  you  are  not  to  wear  diamonds  in 
the  morning,  it  puts  a check  upon  your  vanity.  If  it 
Bays  you  may  wear  them  on  certain  occasions,  it  does  not 
compel  those  who  have  none  to  purchase  them.  If  society 
says  you  shall  eat  with  a knife  and  fork,  it  is  not  because 
fingers  were  not  made  before  forks,  but  because  it  is  well 
known  that  jf  you  were  to  use  the  natural  fork  of  five 
prongs  instead  of  the  plated  one  of  four,  you  would  want 
to  wash  your  hands  after  every  dish.  If  she  goes  farther 
and  says  you  shall  not  put  your  knife  into  your  mouth,  it 
is  because  she  supposes  that  you,  like  ninety-nine  out  of 
every  hundred  of  civilized  beings,  can  taste  the  steel  when 
you  do  so,-^nd  is  surprised  at  your  bad  taste,  and  since 
ghe  demands  good  taste  she  cannot  think  you  fit  for  her 
court  Of  course,  she  cannot  stop  to  hear  you  explain 


ii2  THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 

that  you  find  a particular  enjoyment  in  the  taste  of  atcel 
and  that  therefore  on  your  part  it  is  good  not  bad  taste 
She  is  by  necessity  forced  to  judge  from  appearance.  11 
again  she  forbids  you  to  swing  your  arms  in  walking,  likf 
whe  sails  of  a windmill,  it  is  not  because  she  finds  an}- 
pleasure  in  pinioning  you,  but  because  beauty  is  a result 
of  harmony,  which  is  her  first  law,  and  she  studies  beauty, 
adopts  the  beautiful,  and  rejects  the  inelegant.  That  mo- 
tion of  the  arms  is  not  lovely,  confess  it.  Society  is  quite 
right  to  object  to  it.  Once  more,  if  she  dubs  you  vulgar 
for  speaking  in  a loud  harsh  voice,  it  is  because  whatever 
he  your  case,  other  people  have  nerves  which  may  be 
touched  and  heads  which  can  ache,  and  your  stentorian 
tones  set  the  one  vibrating  and  the  other  throbbing.  In 
short,  while  she  may  have  many  an  old  law  that  needs 
n^pealing,  you  will  find  that  the  greater  number  of  her 
enactments  are  founded  on  very  good  and  very  Christian 
considerations.  You  will  find  that  the  more  religious  a 
man  is,  the  more  polite  he  will  spontaneously  become,  and 
that  too  in  every  rank  of  life,  for  true  religion  teaches 
him  to  forget  himself,  to  love  his  neighbor,  and  to  be 
kindly  even  to  his  enemy,  and  the  appearance  of  so  being 
and  doing,  is  what  society  demands  as  good  manners. 
How  can  it  ask  more  ? How  can  it  rip  open  your  heart 
and  see  if  with  your  bland  smile  and  oily  voice  you  are  a 
liar  and  a hypocrite  ? There  is  One  who  has  this  pow- 
er— forget  it  not ! — but  society  must  be  content  with  thr 
semblance.  By  your  works  men  do  and  must  judge  you 
Before  I quit  the  demands  of  society,  I must  say  a few 
words  on  the  distinction  she  makes'  between  people  of  dif- 
ferent ages  and  different  domestic  positions ; to  wit,  how 
ihe  has  one  law  for  the  bachelor,  another  for  the  beno 


PATERJAMILIAS. 


98 


diet;  one  for  the  maid,  another  for  the  matron;  ere  law. 
I mean,  to  regulate  their  privileges  and  to  restiict  thei! 
vagaries. 

Let  us  begin  with  that  awful,  stately,  and  majestic 
being,  Paterfamilias  Anglicanus ; the  same  who,  havirig 
leached  the  age  of  perpetual  snow,  exacts  our  reverencfa 
and  receives  our  awe ; the  same  who,  finding  his  majesty 
lost  on  the  vagabond  Italian  with  the  monkey  and  orgaiij 
resolves  to  crush  him  in  a column  of  The  Times  : the 
same  before  whom  not  Mamma  herself  dares  open  that 
same  newspaper ; the  same  who  warns  her  against  en- 
couraging the  French  count,  for  whom  Mary  Anne  has 
taken  such  a liking, — who  pooh-poohs  the  idea  of  a 
watering-place  in  summer,  who  fi^owiis  over  the  weekly 
bills,  and  talks  of  bankruptcy  and  ruin  over  the  milli- 
ner’s little  account,  who  is  Mamma’s  excuse  with  the 
sons,  the  daughters,  and  the  servants — your  papa  wishes 
it,”  she  says,  and  there  is  not  a word  more, — who  with  a 
mistaken  dignity  raises  up  an  impassable  barrier  between 
himself  and  his  children,  chilling  back  their  tenderest  ad- 
vances, receiving  their  evening  kiss  as  a cold  formality, 
and  who,  ah,  human  heart ! when  one  of  them  is  laid  low, 
steals  to  the  chamber  of  death  privily  and  ashamed  of  his 
grief,  turns  down  the  ghastly  sheet,  and  burying  his  head 
there  pours  out  the  only  tears  he  has  shed  fi/r  so  many  a 
year.  Poor  father  ! bitter,  bitter  is  the  self-reproach 
^ver  that  cold  form  now.  What  avails  now  the  stern 
veto  that  bade  her  reject  the  handsome  lover  who  had  m 
poor  a fortune,  and  broke — ay,  broke  her  heart  that  beats 
no  more?  Of  what  use  was  that  cold  severity  which 
drove  him  to  sea,  who  lies  there  now  past  all  recall 
Ah!  stern,  hard,  cold  father;  so  they  thought  yois  m 


94 


THE  SriRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


you  seemed,  and  yet  you  meant  it  for  the  best,  aaJ  yua 
gay  you  loved  yvur  children  too  well.  Well,  well,  it  is 
not  all  fathers  who  are  like  this.  There  is  another  epe 
cies  of  the  genus  Paterfamilias  Anglicanus,  who  is  a jo 
vial  and  merry,  and  blithe  by  his  fireside,  whose  child 
ren  nestle  round  his  knees,  and  who  has  a kiss  and 
word,  and  a kind,  soft  smile  for  each. 

But  what  is  the  position  of  Paterfamilias  in  society? 
Where  is  his  place  ? Certainly  not  in  the  ball-room.  Il 
he  comes  there,  he  must  throw  aside  his  dignity,  and  de- 
light in  the  pleasure  of  the  young.  He  must  be  young 
himself.  In  his  own  house  he  must  receive  all  comers 
merrily — the  hal  folatre  is  to  be  a scene  of  mirth  ; he 
must  not  damp  your  gaiety  with  his  solemn  gravity.  He 
is  as  little  missed  from  his  wife’s  ball-room,  as  a mute 
from  a wedding  procession  ; and  yet  he  must  be  there  to 
talk  to  chaperons,  to  amuse  the  elderly  beaux,  and,  if 
necessary,  to  spread  the  card-table  and  form  the  rubber. 
At  all  events,  he  never  dances  unless  to  make  up  a set  in 
a quadrille.  He  is  still  less  at  home  in  the  pic-nic,  the 
matinee^  and  the  fite^  but  he  is  great  at  the  evening 
party,  and  all-important  at  the  dinner.  But  even  here 
there  is  a dignity  proper  to  Paterfamilias,  which,  while  it 
should  avoid  stateliness,  should  scarcely  descend  to  hilari 
ty.  He  must  not  be  a loud  laugher  or  an  inveterate 
talKer.  He  is  seen  in  his  most  trying  light  in  his  con- 
duct to  the  young.  While  we  excuse  his  antique  fashion, 
which  rather  becomes  him,  and  would  laugh  to  see  him  in 
the  latest  mode  of  the  day,  while  we  are  pleased  with  his 
old-fashioned  courtesy,  and  would  not  have  him  talk  slang 
or  lounge  on  the  sofa,  we  expect  from  him  some  consid- 
eration for  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  since  h« 


THE  MATRON. 


95 


courted  his  worthy  spouse.  Paterfamilias  is  too  api  to 
insist  that  the  manners  and  fashions  of  his  spring 
U;tter  than  those  of  his  winter  are.  He  should  be  smil- 
ing  to  young  women,  and  even  a little  gallant,  and  hi 
diould  rejoice  in  their  youthful  mirth.  But  too  often  h 
ii  tempted  to  sex  down  his  younger  brethren,  too  often  h 
iS  a damper,  and  wished  away.  The  dignity  of  Patx.T 
familias  should  never  interfere  Avith  the  ease,  though  it 
may  well  check  the  impudence  of  youth. 

The  Matron  is  tender  to  her  OAvn.  How  much  I Avish 
she  was  as  tender  to  the  pride  of  otliers.  But  one  her. 
will  alAvay:^  kill  another's  chickens  if  she  has  the  oppor- 
tunity, and  Mrs.  Jones  Avill  ahvays  pick  to  pieces  Mrs. 
Brown’s  daughters.  The  Matron  has  Uiany  more  social 
duties  than  Paterfamailias.  It  is  she  avIio  arranges  every- 
thing ; who  selects  the  guests ; Avdio,  Avith  her  daughter’s 
pen,  invites  them ; Avho  receives  their  visits ; Avho  looks 
after  their  comforts ; who,  by  her  active  attentions,  keeps 
up  the  circulation  in  evening  parties ; Avho  orders  dinner, 
and  distributes  the  guests  at  it ; Avho  introduces  partners 
at  balls  Avith  her  daughter’s  assistance  ; Avdio  engages  the 
chaperons ; wdio  herself  must  go,  willing  or  not.  to  look 
after  her  Ada  and  her  Edith  at  the  ball,  and  sit  unmur- 
muring to  the  end  of  the  dance.  But  she  is  Avell  repaid 
by  their  pleasure,  and  Avhen  Ada  talks  of  the  Captain’s 
attention,  and  Edith  tells  her  Avhat  the  curate  wdiispcred, 
she  is  perfectly  happy.  The  matron  without  children  is 
a woman  out  of  her  sphere,  and  until  her  children  are 
grown  up,  she  is  a young  married  Avoman,  and  not  a raa^ 
tron.  It  is  only  Avhen  Ada  comes  out”  that  her  office 
commences.  She  must  then  in  society  be  an  appendage 
U)  her  daughter,  and  forget  herself.  But  in  the  evening 


90 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


party  and  the  dinner-party  she  takes  a higher  place^  a!id 
in  fact  the  highest,  and  wliether  as  guest  or  host,  it  is  to 
tier  that  the  most  respect  is  shown ; she  has  a right  to  it, 
and  it  is  her  duty  to  keep  it  up.  Still  the  matron  appears 
more  in  her  relation  to  her  children  than  any  other  posi 
tion,  and  in  this  her  place  in  society  is  one  that  demand 
*;are.  Great  as  her  pride  may  be  in  her  family,  she  has 
no  right  to  be  continually  asserting  their  superiority  to  all 
other  young  people.  This  is  particularly  remarkable  in 
her  treatment  of  her  grown-up  sons  ; and  a mother  should 
remember  that  when  fully  fledged,  the  young  birds  can 
take  care  of  themselves.  She  has  no  right  to  tie  them  tc 
her  apron-string,  and  her  fondness  becomes  foolish  when 
she  fears  that  poor  Charles  will  catch  cold  at  eight-and- 
twenty^  or  shrieks  after  James,  because  he  will  stroll 
away  to  his  club.  But  when  she  assumes  the  dress  and 
airs  of  youth,  she  becomes  ridiculous.  When  once  she 
has  daughters  presentable,  she  must  forget  to  shine  her- 
self ; she  should  never,  even  if  a widow,  risk  being  her 
daughter’s  rival,  and  her  conduct  to  young  men  must  be 
that  of  a mother,  rather  than  of  a friend. 

It  is  very  different  in  France,  where  the  married  woman 
is  par  excellence  the  woman  jf  society,  no  matter  what 
her  age.  But  in  England,  the  bearing  of  the  married 
woman  with  grown-up  children  must  be  the  calm  dignity 
and  affability  of  the  matron.  The  French  have  a pro* 
verb,  Faire  la  cour  d la  m^.re  pour  avoir  la  fille  and 
I should  strongly  recommend  the  young  man  who  wishejg 
to  succeed  with  a damsel,  to  show  particular  attent  ons  to 
her  mamma.  A mother  indeed  does  not  expect  you  to 
leave  her  daughter’s  side  in  order  to  talk  to  her ; but  be 
sure  that  such  an  act  gains  you  much  more  good  will  than 


THE  YOUNG  MARRIED  MAN. 


97 


all  xht  pretty  speeches  you  could  have  made  in  that  time 
to  the  daughter.  And  it  is  only  kind  too.  As  1 have 
said,  the  mother’s  and  chaperon's  position  is  secondarj 
»^hen  the  daughter  or e is  present,  at  least  in  Eng* 
land ; but  a good-natured  man  will  take  care  that  she  does 
aot  feel  it  to  be  so.  A good  girl  is  always  pleased  to  see 
proper  respect  and  attention  shown  to  her  mother ; and 
when  at  breakfast  the  next  morning,  mamma  says,  My 
dear,  I like  Mr.  Jones  very  much  ; he  is  a well-bred  and 
agreeable  young  man ; I recommend  you  to  cultivate 
him.”  And  when  Arabella  exclaims,  Oh,  mamma,  the 
idea  ! Mr.  Jones  indeed  !”  you  may  be  sure  the  maternal 
praise  is  not  lost  upon  her,  and  the  idea  is  precisely  one 
that  she  will  allow  to  return  to  her  mind.  One  of  the 
most  fattening  dishes  on  which  Master  Cupid  feeds,  is  that 
same  praise  bestowed  by  others.  But  whether  you  have 
an  eye  to  Arabella  or  not,  the  chaperon  ought  not  to  be 
neglected. 

Now,  what  part  young  Benedict  shall  take  in  society 
depends  on  his  young  wife.  If  she  be  wise,  she  will  not 
fret  when  he  dances  with  pretty  girls,  and  if  he  be  kind 
he  will  not  let  the  dance  lead  him  into  a flirtation.  But 
Benedict  may  go  everywhere,  and  need  not  sigh  over  the 
days  of  his  celibacy.  Only  he  must  remember,  that  while 
he  has  gained  some  privileges,  he  has  lost  others.  In  the 
meetings  of  the  young,  for  instance,  he  is  less  wanted  than 
Ccelebs,  while  since  he  cannot  be  invited  without  his  wife, 
ho  can  no  longer  expect  to  fill  the  odd  seat  at  dinner.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  takes  precedence  of  the  bachelor,  and 
Is  naturally  a man  of  more  'weight,  so  that  when  he  haa 
passed  his  head  under  the  yoke,  he  must  be  calmer^  more 
sober,  less  frivolous,  though  not  less  lively  than  he  was 


98 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


the  old  ‘^chambers”  days.  A great  deal  is  forgiven  u 
Coelebs  on  account  of  bis  position.  If  he  talks  nonsen.4f 
occasionally,  it  is  his  high  spirits ; if  he  dances  incessant 
ly  the  whole  evening,  it  is  that  he  may  please  ‘'t!ics<' 
ioar  girls if  he  dresses  au  'point  de  vice  now  and  then 
■le  is  Claudio  in  love,  lying  sleepless  for  the  night,  “ cai  v* 
fig  out  a new  doublet if  he  hurries  to  the  drawing- 
room after  dinner,  or  is  marked  in  his  attention  to  ladies, 
lie  is  only  on  his  promotion ; and  if  he  has  a few  last 
lounging  habits,  it  is  all  very  well  for  the  boys,”  says 
Paterfamilias,  and  in  short,  a young  fellow  like  that” 
jQay  do  a thousand  things  that  Benedict  the  married  man 
*aust  abstain  from.  Greater  than  any  change,  however 
£3  that  of  his  relations  to  his  own  sex.  Some  married 
men  throw  all  their  bachelor  friends  overboard,  when  they 
take  that  fair  cargo  for  which  they  have  been  sighing  sc 
long;  but  I would  not  be  one  of  such  a man’s  friends 
At  the  same  time,  I must  expect  to  see  less  of  Benedict 
than  before.  “Adieu  the  petit  sonpe?'^^^  he  murmurs 
“ the  flying  corks,  the  chorused  song,  the  trips  to  Rich 
mond  and  Greenwich,  the  high  dog-cart,  and  the  seat  oi* 
the  box  of  my  friend’s  drag  ! Adieu  the  fragrant  weed 
the  cracking  hunting-whip,  the  merry  bacheloi  -dinnei , 
and  the  late  hours  ! Shall  I sigh  over  them  ? No,  in- 
deed ! Mrs.  Jones  is  not  only  an  ample  compensation  foi 
Buch  gaieties,  but  I am  thankful  to  her  for  keeping  me 
Brom  them.  Why,  that  little  baby-face  of  hers,  that  pouts 
80  prettily  for  a kiss  when  I come  home,  is  worth  a hun 
dred  dozens  of  champagnes,  a thousand  boxes  of  Hudson’s 
best,  and  a score  of  the  longest  runs  after  reynard  wo 
ever  had.”  Yes,  Benedict-I  envy  thee,  and  if  Beatrice 
be  wise,  she  will  draw  the  reins  too  tight  all  at  once 


THE  BACHELOR 


m 

Miil  whatever  she  may  say  to  hunting,  she  will  sc?o  no 
harm  in  a mild  havana  and  a couple  of  bachelor  frienda 
to  dinner  now  and  then.  But  Benedict  has  not  only 
changed  his  manner  and  his  habits,  he  has  got  new  duties 
nd  where  his  wife  goes  he  may  go,  and  ought  to  go 
le  can  no  longer  claim  exemption  from  solemn  dinners 
from  Aveary  muffin-worries,  and  witless  tea-parties.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  will  never  be  made  use  of,  and  his 
wife  will  furnish  a ready  excuse  for  refusing  invitations 
which  he  had  better  not  accept.  Lastly,  the  young  mar- 
ried man  should  never  assume  the  gravity  of  Paterfamiliaa 
and  though  he  is  promoted  above  Coelebs,  he  will  take 
care  not  to  snub  him. 

^ What  a happy  man  is  Coelebs  ! The  more  I sit  in  my 
club- window  the  more  I feel  convinced  of  this.  It  is  true 
that  I have  never  been  married,  and  therefore  know  nothing 
of  the  alternative,  but  will  make  vou  a little  confession, 
priestly  reader — I have  been  once  or  twice  very  near  it. 
Free  from  incumbrance,  Coelebs  is  as  irresponsible  as  a 
butterfly ; he  can  choose  his  own  suciety,  go  anywhere, 
do  anything,  be  early  or  late,  gay  or  retired,  mingle  with 
men  or  with  ladies,  smoke  or  not,  wear  a beard  or  cut  it 
off,  and,  if  he  likes,  part  his  hair  down  m the  middle. 
What  a happy  man  is  Coelebs  ! free  and  independent  as  he 
is,  he  is  as  much  courted  as  a voter  at  an  election  ; he  is 
for  ever  being  bribed  by  mammas  and  feasted  by  papas ; 
nothing  is  complete  without  him  ; he  is  the  wit  at  the  din- 
ner, the  life”  of  the  tea-fight,  an  absolute  necessity  in 
the  ball-room,  a sine  qua  non  at  f te  and  pic  nic,  and  W(d 
come  everywhere.  Indeed,  I don’t  know  what  society  cai. 
do  without  him.  The  men  want  hrm  for  their  parties,  the 
ladies,  I suppose  I must  not  sav,  still  more”  for  theirs 


100 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  C HSERVANCBS. 


The  old  like  him  because  he  is  young,  the  young  like  hia 
because  he  is  not  old  ; and  in  short  he  is  as  much  a neces- 
sity as  the  refreshments,  and  must  be  procured  someho\^ 
other.  Then,  too,  if  he  does  not  care  for  these  things 
he  can  come  and  sit  here  in  the  club-window ; or  he  can 
travel,  which  Benedict  seldom  can  ; or  he  can  take  an  oc- 
cupation 6r  an  art,  while  the  married  man  has  no  choice, 
i^nd  must  work,  if  he  work  at  all,  to  keep  quiet  the 
mouths  of  those  blessed  cherubim  in  the  perambulator. 

But  that  which  makes  Coelebs  a happy  man  is,  that  he 
jan  enjoy  society  so  much.  If  it  be  the  bachelor-party, 
he  is  not  there  against  his  conscience  with  fear  of  a Cau- 
dle lecture  to  spoil  his  digestion.  If  it  is  among  ladies, 
he  has  the  spice  of  galanterie  to  curry  his  conversation 
with,  and  as  for  dancing,  he  at  least  enjoys  it  as  an  intro- 
duction to  flirtation.  But  perhaps  his  greatest  privilege 
is  the  power  of  falling  in  love,  for  as  long  as  that  power 
lasts — which,  heigh-ho  ! is  not  for  ever — there  is  no  inno- 
cent pleasure  which  is  greater.  But  Coelebs  has  not 
always  the  privilege  of  falling  out  of  love  again,  and  if 
the  married  man  has  a wife  to  look  after  his  doings,  the 
bachelor  is  watched  by  chaperons,  and  suspected  by  papas 
Poor  Coelebs,  do  not  leave  the  matter  too  late  ; do  not  say, 
Hang  me  in  a bottle  like  a cat,  and  shoot  at  me,”  if  ever 
1 lose  my  heart.  Believe  me,  boy,  the  passion  must  be 
enjoyed  when  young.  When  you  come  to  my  age,  Cupid 
^oift  waste  an  arrow  on  you,  and  if  he  did  so,  it  would 
:nly  make  you  ridiculous.  Yes,  the  young  bachelor  is  a 
‘iappy  man,  but  the  old  bachelor-  -let  me  stop,  if  I once 
begin  on  that  theme,  I shall  waste  three  quires  of  paper, 
and  tire  you  out  But  if  much  is  allowed  to  Cceleba 


THE  YOUNG  LADY. 


101 


much  IS  expected  of  him.  He  has  not  tue  substanc-*.'  of 
Benedict  to  back  him  up,  not  the  respectability  of  wedded 
life,  not  the  charms  of  his  young  wife  to  make  amends 
for  his  deficiencies.  The  young  bachelor  is  more  than  any 
man  a subject  for  the  laws  of  etiquette.  Less  than  an 
will  he  be  pardoned  for  neglecting  them.  He  has  no  ex 
case  to  ofier  for  their  non-observance.  He  must  make 
himself  useful  and  agreeable,  must  have  accomplishments 
for  the  former,  and  talents  for  the  latter,  and  is  expected 
to  show  attention  and  respect  to  both  sexes  and  all  ages. 

Happier  still  is  the  young  lady,  for  whom  so  many  al- 
lowances are  made,  and  who,  in  society,  is  supposed  to  do 
nothing  wrong.  To  her  the  ball  is  a real  delight^  and  the 
evening  party  much  more  amusing  than  to  any  one  else. 
On  the  other  hand,  she  must  not  frequent  dinner-parties 
too  much,  particularly  if  she  is  very  young,  and  in  all 
cases  she  must  consider  modesty  the  prettiest  ornament  she 
can  wear.  She  has  many  privileges,  but  must  beware  how 
she  takes  advantage  of  them.  To  the  old  her  manner  must 
always  be  respectful  and  even  affectionate.  If  she  lacks 
beauty,  she  will  not  succeed  without  conversational  pow- 
ers ; and  if  she  has  beauty,  she  will  soon  find  that  wit  is 
a powerful  rival.  With  the  two  she  may  do  what  sho 
will ; all  men  are  hej  slaves.  She  must,  however,  have 
a smile  as  well,  for  every  person  and  every  occa^3ion. 
Dignity  she  seldom  needs,  except  to  repel  familiarity. 
Without  a good  heart  her  mind  and  her  face  will  only 
draw  envy  and  even  dislike  upon  her.  In  England , tha 
young  lady  is  queen ; in  France,  the  young  married  woman 
takes  her  place ; and  though  society  can  do  without  her 
there  is,  in  my  opinion,  no  more  charming  companion  tha'^ 


102 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


a young  married  wman.  She  has  left  off  nonsense,  ’iiid 
forgotten  flirtation,  and  she  has  gained  from  the- corn}  am 
ionship  of  her  husband  a certain  strength  of  mind,  which 
tempered  by  her  modest  dignity,  enables  her  to  broach 
almost  any  subject  with  a man.  She  is  at  home  every 
•where,  may  dance  in  the  ball-room,  and  talk  at  the  dinnei 
table,  and  the  respect  due  to  her  position  enables  her  to 
be  more  free  in  ner  intercourse  without  fear  of  remark 
In  short,  if  a man  wishes  for  sensible  conversation,  wdth 
gentleness  and  beauty  to  lend  it  a charm,  he  must  look 
for  it  in  young  married  women. 

Of  the  elderly  unmarried  lady — for  of  course  there  ia 
no  such  thing  as  an  old  maid” — I decline,  from  a feeling 
of  delicacy,  to  say  anything. 

I shall  conclude  this  de  resistance  with  a few  part- 
ing remarks  on  the  art -of  making  one’s  self  agreeable.  I 
take  it  that  the  first  thing  necessary  is  to  be  in  good  spirits, 
or  at  least  in  the  humor  for  society.  If  you  have  any 
grief  or  care  to  oppress  you,  and  have  not  the  strength  of 
will  to  throw  it  off,  you  do  yourself  an  injustice  by  enter- 
ing the  society  of  those  who  meet  for  mutual  entertain- 
ment. Nay,  you  do  them  too  a wrong,  for  you  risk  be- 
coming what  is  commonly  known  as  a ‘^damper.”  Tiie 
next  point  is  to  remember  that  the  mutual  entertainment 
in  society  is  obtained  by  conversation.  For  this  you  re- 
♦juire  temper,  of  which  I have  already  spoken ; confidence 
of  which  I shall  speak  elsewhere;  and  appropriateiies?, 
which  has  been  treated  under  the  head  of  ‘‘Conversaticn.’* 
I have  already  said,  that  that  man  is  the  most  agreeable 
to  talk  to  who  thinks  out  of  society  as  well  as  in  it  li 
will  be  necessary  to  throw  off  all  the  marks  and  feelings 


TUE  ART  OF  MAKINa  ONE'S-SELF  AGREE  IDLE.  1 Ot 


of  your  profession  and  occupatioiij  and  surround  yourself, 
so  to  speak,  with  a purely  social  atmosphere.  You  must 
remember  that  society  requires  equality,  real  or  apparent 
and  that  all  professional  or  official  peculiarities  militatf^ 
against  this  appearance  of  equality.  You  must,  in  the 
iame  way,  divest  yourself  of  all  feeling  of  superiority  or 
iiiferiority  in  rank,  birth,  position,  means,  or  even  acquire 
Dients.  You  must  enter  the  social  ranks  as  a private 
If  you  earn  your  laurels  by  being  agreeable,  you  will,  ir 
time,  get  your  commission.  Having  made  this  mental 
preparation,  having  confidence  without  pride,  modesty 
without  shyness,  ease  without  insolence,  and  dignity  with- 
out stiffness,  ycu  may  enter  the  drawing-room,  and  see  in 
what  way  you  may  best  make  yourself  agreeable. 

The  spirit  with  which  you  must  do  so  is  one  of  general 
kindliness  and  self-sacrifice.  You  will  not,  therefore,  select 
the  person  who  has  the  most  attractions  for  you,  so  much 
as  any  one  whom  you  see  neglected,  or  who,  being  not  quite 
at  his  or  her  ease,  requires  to  be  talked  into  confidence. 
On  the  same  principle,  you  will  respect  prejudices ; you 
will  take  care  to  ascertain  them,  before  coming,  on  subjects 
on  which  people  feel  strongly.  Then  you  will  not  open  a 
conversation  with  a young  lady  by  abusing  High  or  Low 
Church,  nor  with  an  elderly  gentleman  by  an  attack  on 
Whig  or  Tory.  You  will  not  rail  against  babies  to  a mar- 
ried woman,  nor  sneer  at  modern  literature  to  a man  witli 
t beard,  for  if  he  is  not  a Crimean  officer,  he  is  sure  to  Ik? 
n author. 

In  like  spirit  you  will  discover  and  even  anticipate  th 
wants  of  others,  particularly  if  you  are  a man.  On  first 
acquaintance  you  will  treat  every  one  with  particuiai 


104 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 


respect  and  delicacy,  not  rushing  at  once  into  a familial 
joke,  or  roaring  like  a clown.  "Your  manner  will  be  calm— 
because  if  you  have  no  nerves,  other  people  have  them — 
and  your  voice  gentle  and  low.  Oh  ! commend  me  to  at 
agreeable  voice,  especially  in  a woman.  It  is  worth  an^ 
ameunt  of  beauty.  The  tone,  too,  of  your  conversation 
and  style  of  your  manner  will  vary  with  the  occasion. 
While  it  wdll  be  sensible  and  almost  grave  at  table,  it  will 
be  merry  and  light  at  a pic-nic. 

Your  attention,  again,  must  not  be  exclusive.  However 
little  you  may  enjoy  their  society,  you  will  be  as  attentive 
to  the  old  as  to  the  young  ; to  the  humble  as  to  the  grand 
to  the  poor  curate,  for  instance,  as  to  the  M.*P.  ; to  the 
elderly  chaperon  as  to  her  fair  young  charge.  In  this 
manner  you  not  only  evince  your  good-breeding,  but  often 
do  a real  kindness  in  amusing  those  who  might  otherwise 
be  very  dull.  On  some  occasions,  particularly  when  a 
party  is  heavy  and  wants  life,  you  will  generalize  the  con- 
versation, introducing  a subject  in  which  all  can  take  an 
interest,  and  turning  to  them  all  in  general.  On  the  other 
hand,  when,  as  in  a small  party,  the  conversation  is  by 
necessity  general,  you  will  particularly  avoid  talking  to 
one  person  exclusively,  or  mentioning  people,  places,  or 
things  with  which  only  one  or  two  of  them  can  be  ac- 
quainted. For  instance,  if  at  a morning  call  there  happen 
to  be  two  or  three  strangers  at  the  same  time,  it  is  bad 
ta^te  to  talk  about  Mr.  this  or  Mr.  that.  It  is  far  bettei 
to  have  recourse  to  the  newspapers,  which  every  tody  i 
supposed  to  have  read,  or  to  public  affairs,  in  which  every- 
body can  take  more  or  less  interest. 

But  it  is  not  in  your  words  only  that  you  may  offen^/ 


MANNERS. 


105 


against  good  taste.  Your  manners  jour  persoral  habits 
jour  vcrj  look  even  inaj  give  offence.  These,  therefore, 
must  not  onlj  be  studied,  but  if  jou  have  the  misfortune 
to  be  with  people  who  are  riot  accustomed  to  refined  man 
Dei  s and  to  find  that  insisting  on  q,  particular  refinemcrj 
Wbfuld  give  oSence,  or  cast  an  imputation  on  the  rest,  it  ia 
alwajs  better  to  waive  a refinement  than  to  hurt  feelings 
and  it  sometimes  becomes  more  ill-bred  to  insist  on  one 
than  to  do  without  it.  For  instance,  if  jour  host  and  his 
guest  dine  without  dinner  napkins,  it  would  be  verj  bad 
taste  to  call  for  one,  or  if,  as  in  German j,  there  be  no 
spoons  for  the  salt,  jou  must  be  content  to  use  jour  knife 
or  fork  as  the  rest  do.  To  do  in  Rome  as  the  Romai  s 
do,’*  applies  to  everj  kind  of  societj.  At  the  same  time, 
you  can  never  be  expected  to  commit  a serious  breach  of 
manners  because  .jour  neighbors  do  so.  You  can  never 
be  called  on  in  America  to  spit  about  the  room,  simpl^v 
because  it  is  a national  habit. 

But  what  JOU  should  do,  and  what  not,  in  particular 
cases,  JOU  will  learn  in  the  following  chapters.  I have 
onlj'  now  to  saj,  that  if  jou  wish  to  be  agreeable,  which 
is  certainlj  a good  and  religious  desire,  jou  must  both 
gtudj  how  to  be  so,  and  take  the  trouble  to  put  jour  studies 
into  constant  practice.  The  fruit  jou  will  soon  reap.  You 
will  be  generallj  liked  and  loved.  The  gratitude  of  those 
0 whom  JOU  have  devoted  jourself  will  be  shown  in 
jpcakmg  well  of  jou;  jou  will  become  a desirable  adJi 
ion  to  everj  partj  and  w^hatever  jour  birth,  fortune,  r 
jiosition,  people  wiU  saj  of  jou  He  is  a most  agreeabl 
tnd  well-bred  man  ” and  be  glad  to  introduce  jou  to  good 
societj.  But  JOU  will  reap  a jet  better  reward.  Yor  / 

5* 


106  THE  SPIKIT  OF  SOCIAL  OBSERVANCES. 

have  in  yourself  the  satisfaction  of  having  taken  trcubU 
and  made  sacrifices  in  order  to  give  pleasure  and  happiness 
for  the  time  to  others.  How  do  you  know  what  grief  or 
care  you  may  not  obliterate,  what  humiliation  you  may 
not  alter  to  confidence,  what  anxiety  you  may  not  soften 
what — last,  but  really  not  least — what  intense  dullnea 
you  may  not  enliven  ? If  this  work  assist  you  in  becom 
ing  an  agreeable  member  of  good  society,  I shall  rejoice 
fit  the  labor  it  has  given  me. 


PART  I - THE  INDIVIDUAL 


CHAPTER  I 

INSIDE  THE  DHESSING-ROOM. 

There  are  several  passages  in  Holy  Writ  which  have 
been  shamefully,  I may  almost  say,  ludicrously  misapplied. 
Thus  when  we  want  a scriptural  authority  for  making  ag 
u uch  money  as  possible  in  an  honest  way,  we  quote  St. 
Paul,  ‘‘Not  slothful  in  business, forgetting  that  the 
word  “business”  had  once  a far  wider  meaning,  and  that 
the  Greek,  for  which  it  is  placed,  means  really  “ zeal,” 
that  is,  in  God's  w’ork.  But  the  most  impudent  appro- 
priation is  that  of  cleanliness  being  next  to  godliness,  and 
the  apostle  is  made  to  affirm  that  if  you  cannot  be  reli- 
gious, you  should  at  least  w^ear  a clean  shirt.  Of  course 
a reference  to  the  Greek  would  show  in  a moment  tha 
purity  of  mind  and  heart  are  meant,  and  that  “cleanli- 
ness” was  once  the  proper  English  for  “ purity.” 

Though  we  have  no  right  to  claim  scriptural  authority 
foi  soap  and  water,  we  cannot  agree  with  Thomas  of  Ely, 
who  tells  us  that  Queen  Ethelreda  was  sc  clean  of  heart 
as  to  need  no  washing  of  the  body ; nor  can  we  believe 
^hat  the  loftiness  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague’s  sen- 
dmenta  at  all  replaced  the  brush  and  comb,  towel  and 

(107) 


108 


INSIDE  THE  DRESSING-BOOM. 


sin,  to  which  tne  liveliest  woman  of  her  day  had  such  a 
strange  aversion  It  was  she  who,  when  some  one  said  Ic 
her  at  the  opera,  ‘‘  How  dirty  your  hands  are,  my  lady!^’ 
slie  replied  with  naive  indifference,  What  would  you 
ay  if  you  saw  my  feet?’’ 

Genius,  love,  and  fanaticism,  seem  partial  to  dirt 
Every  one  knows  what  a German  philosopher  looks  like, 
and  Werther  showed  his  misery  by  wearing  the  same  coat 
and  appendices  for  a whole  year.  As  to  the  saints,  they 
were  proud  of  their  unchanged  flannel,  and  the  monk  was 
never  made  late  for  matins  by  the  intricacy  of  his  toilet. 
St.  Simeon  of  the  Pillar  is  an  instance  of  the  common 
opinion  of  his  day,  that  far  from  cleanliness  being  next 
to  godliness,  the  nearest  road  to  heaven  is  a remarkably 
dirty  one.  Perhaps,  however,  he  trusted  to  the  rain  to 
cleanse  him;  and  he  was  certainly  a user  of  the  shower 
bath,  which  cannot  be  said  of  many  a fine  gentleman 
Religion,  however,  is  not  always  accompanied  with  neglect 
* the  person.  The  Brahman  bathes  twice  a day,  and 
^ises  his  mouth  seven  times  the  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing. It  is  strange  that  Manu,  while  enumerating  the 
pollutions  of  this  world,  should  have  made  the  exception 
of  a woman’s  mouth,  which  he  tells  us  is  always  clean. 
Probably  the  worthy  old  Hindu  was  partial  to  osculation 
but  it  is  certain  that  there  can  be  no  Billingsgate  in  India 

In  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  it  was  thought 
^aoper  for  a gentleman  to  change  his  under  garment  three 
^times  a day,  and  the  washing  bilk  of  a beau  comprised 
seventy  shirts,  thirty  cravats,  and  pocket-handkenibiefs 

iscr  ' tion.  What  would  Brummell  say  to  a college  chum 
' 1 mine  who  made  a tour  through  Wales  with  but  one 
flannel  shirt  in  his  knapsack  ? The  former’s  maxim  was 


CLEANLINESS. 


109 


^ linen  of  the  finest  quality,  plenty  of  it,  and  country 
washing.*'  Fine  linen  has  always  been  held  in  esteem, 
but  it  did  not  save  Dives. 

Cleanliness  is  a duty  to  one’s  self  for  the  sake  ol  health 
•\nd  to  one’s  neighbor  for  the  sake  of  agreeableness  DirU' 
Less  is  decidedly  unpleasant  to  more  than  one  of  the 
senses,  and  a man  who  thus  offends  his  neighbor  is  not 
free  from  guilt,  though  he  may  go  unpunished.  But  ii 
these  reasons  were  not  suflScient,  there  is  another  fin 
stronger  than  both.  St.  Simeon  Stylites  may  have  pre- 
served a pure  mind  in  spite  of  an  absence  of  ablutions, 
but  w^e  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  influence  which  the 
body  has  over  the  soul,  an  influence,  alas,  for  man ! some- 
times far  too  great.  We  are  convinced  that  bad  personal 
habits  have  their  elfect  on  the  character,  and  that  a man 
who  neglects  his  body,  which  he  loves  by  instinct,  will 
neglect  far  more  his  soul,  which  he  loves  only  by  com- 
mand. 

There  is  no  excuse  for  Brummell’s  taking  more  than 
two  hours  to  dress.  It  was  in  his  case  mere  vanity,  and 
he  was — and  was  content  to  be — one  of  the  veriest  show- 
things  in  the  world,  as  useless  as  the  table  ornaments  on 
which  he  wasted  the  money  he  was  not  ashamed  to  take 
from  his  friendjs,.  On  the  other  hand,  when  a young  lady 
assures  me  that  she  can  dress  in  ten  minutes,  I feel  con- 
fident that  the  most  important  part  of  the  toilet  must  be 
neglected.  The  morning  toilet  means  more  than  a mere 
putting  on  of  clothes,  whatever  policemen  and  French 
concierges  may  think. 

The  first  thing  to  be  attended  to  after  rising  is  the  baM. 
The  vessel  which  is  dignified,  like  a certain  part  of  lady’s 
dress,  with  a royal  Order,  is  one  on  which  folios  might 


no 


INSIDE  THE  DRESSING- ROOM. 


oe  written.  It  has  given  a name  to  two  towns — Bath  and 
Baden — renowned  for  their  toilets,  and  it  is  all  that  is  left 
in  thn  e continents  of  Roman  glory.  It  is  a club-room  in 
(R'l  manj  and  the  East  and  was  an  arena  in  Greece  and 
Home.  It  was  in  a bath  that  the  greatest  destroyer  oi 
life  had  liis  own  destroyed,  when  he  had  bathed  all  France 
in  blood.  But  Clarence,  I am  convinced,  has  been  much 
maligned.  He  has  been  called  a drunkard,  and  people 
shudder  at  his  choosing  that  death  in  which  he  could  not 
but  die  in  sin ; but  for  my  part,  so  far  as  the  Malmsey  is 
concerned,  I am  inclined  to  think  that  he  only  showed 
himself  a gentleman  to  the  last.  He  was  determined  tc 
die  clean,  and  he  knew,  like  the  Parisian  ladies — which 
we  should  perhaps  spell  laides — who  sacrifice  a dozen  of 
champagne  to  their  morning  ablutions,  that  wine  has  a 
peculiarly  softening  effect  upon  the  skin.  Besides  Cham- 
pagne, the  exquisites  of  Paris  use  milk,*  which  is  sup- 
posed to  lend  whiteness  to  the  skin.  The  expense  of  this 
luxury  is  considerably  diminished  by  an  arrangment  with 
the  milkman,  who  repurchases  the  liquid  after  use.  I 
need  scarcely  add,  that  in  Paris  I learned  to  abjure  cafe 
au  lait^  and  to  drink  my  tea  simple. 

The  bath  deserves  an  Order,  and  its  celebrity.  It  is  of 
all  institutions  the  most  unexceptionable.  Man  is  an  am- 
phibious animal,  and  ought  to  pass  some  small  portion  of 
each  day  in  the  water.  In  fact,  a large,  if  not  the  larger 
[proportion  of  diseases  arises  from  leaving  the  pores  of 
die  skin  closed,  whether  with  natural  exudation  or  mat 
ter  fiom  without,  alias  dirt.  It  is  quite  a mistake  to 


♦The  late  Duke  of  Queensbury  had  his  milk-bath  every  day  It  k 
gappQS^  J U uourish  as  well  as  whiten  and  soften  the  skin 


THE  BATH. 


in 


gui^pode,  and  ti  3 idea  must  at  once  be  done  away  with, 
that  one  is  to  wash  because  one  is  dirty.  We  wash  be- 
cause we  wear  clothes ; in  other  words,  because  we  are 
obliged  to  remove  artificially  what  would  otherwise  escape 
by  evaporation.  We  wash  again,  because  we  are  never  ir 
a state  of  perfect  health,  although  with  care  we  might  b« 
so.  Were  our  bodies  in  perfect  order — as  the  Sweden- 
borgians  inform  us  that  those  of  the  angels  are — wo 
should  never  need  washing,  and  the  bath  would  chill 
rather  than  refresh  us,  so  that,  perhaps,  man  is  by  neces- 
sity and  degradation — not  by  destination — an  amphibious 
creature. 

However  this  may  be,  we  must  not  suppose,  because  a 
limb  looks  clean,  that  it  does  not  need  washing,  and  how- 
ever white  the  skin  may  appear,  we  should  use  the  bath 
once  a day  at  least,  and  in  summer,  if  convenient,  twice. 

The  question  now  arises.  What  kind  of  a bath  is  best  ? 
ind  it  must  be  ansAvered  by  referring  to  the  personas 
eonstitution.  If  this  is  weak  and  poor,  the  bath  should 
be  strengthening ; but  at  the  same  time  it  must  be  remem- 
bered, that  while  simple  water  cleanses,  thicker  fluids  are 
apt  rather  to  encumber  the  skin,  so  that  a tonic  bath  is  not 
always  a good  one.  This  is  the  case  with  the  champagne^ 
milk,  mud,  snake,  and  other  baths,  the  value  of  which  en- 
tirely depends  on  the  peculiar  state  of  health  of  the  patient 
so  that  one  person  is  cured,  and  another  killed  by  them 
The  same  is  to  be  said  of  sea-bathing,  and  the  commor^ 
hath  even  must  be  used  with  reference  to  one’s  condition 

The  most  cleansing  bath  is  a warm  one  from  96*  te 
100°,  into  which  the  whole  body  is  immersed.  If  cleans- 
ing alone  be  the  aim,  the  hotter  the  water  the  better,  uf 
to  108°.  It  expands  the  pores,  dives  well  into  them 


112 


INSIDE  TUB  DRESSING-ROOM. 


and  increases  the  circulation  for  the  time  being.  Bat 
since  it  is  an  unnatural  agent,  it  exhausts  the  physical 
po^vers/  and  leaves  us  prostrate.^  For  health  therefore 
it  should  be  sparingly  indulged  in,  except  in  persons  of 
rapid  and  heated  circulation.  Even  with  such,  it  should 
Oe  used  with  discretion,  and  the  time  of  remaining  in  the 
bath  should  never  exceed  a few  minutes. 

Th^'cold  bath  of  from  60°  to  70°,  on  the  other  hand, 
tleanses  less,  but  invigorates  more.  It  should  therefore 
be  avoided  by  persons  of  full  temperament,  and  becomes 
really  dangerous  after  eating,  or  even  after  a long  rest 
following  a heavy  meal.  If  you  have  supped  largely 
over  night,  or  been  foolish,  perhaps  I may  say  wrong 
enough,  to  drink  more  than  your  usual  quantity  of  stim- 
ulating liquids,  you  should  content  yourself  with  passing 
a wet  sponge  over  the  body”. 

A tepid  bath,  varying  from  85«  to  95^^,  is  perhaps  the 
safest  of  all,  but  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  health  in  the 
desire  for  comfort.  The  most  healthy,  and  one  of  the 
handsomest  men  I ever  saw,  and  one  who  at  sixty  had  not 
a single  grey  hair,  was  a German,  whose  diet  being  mod- 
erate, used  to  bathe  in  running  water  at  all  seasons, 
breaking  the  ice  in  winter  for  his  plunge.  Of  the  shower 
bath,  I will  say  nothing,  because  I feel,  that  to  recom- 
mend it  for  general  use,  is  dangerous,  while  for  such  ai 
work  as  this,  which  does  not  take  health  as  its  main  sub- 
ject it  would  be  out  of  place  to  go  into  the  special  cases. 

Tue  best  bath  for  general  purposes,  and  one  which  can 
dc  little  harm^  and  almost  always  some  good,  is  a sponge 
bath  It  should  consist  of  a large  flat  metal  basin,  some 
four  feet  in  diameter,  filled  with  cold  water.  Such  a ves- 
sel may  be  bought  for  about  fifteen  shillings.  A largi 


THE  BATH. 


113 


coarse  sponge — the  coarser  the  better — will  cost  anothei 
five  or  seven  shillings,  and  a few  Turkish  towels,  com- 
plete the  ‘^properties.’’  The  water  should  be  plentiful 
and  fresh,  that  is,  brought  up  a little  while  before  the 
bath  is  to  be  used  ; not  placed  over  night  in  the  bed-room, 
Let  us  wash  and  be  merry,  for  we  know  not  how  soon  tlu 
supply  of  that  precious  article  which  here  costs  nothing 
may  be  cut  off.  In  many  continental  towns  they  buy 
their  water,  and  on  a protracted  sea  voyage  the  ration  is 
often  reduced  to  half  a pint  a day  for  all  purposes^  so 
that  a pint  per  diem  is  considered  luxurious.  Sea-water, 
we  may  here  observe,  does  not  cleanse  and  a sensible  man 
who  bathes  in  the  sea  will  take  a bath  of  pure  water  im- 
mediately after  it.  This  practice  is  shamefully  neglected, 
and  I am  inclined  to  think,  that  in  many  cases  a sea-bath 
will  do  more  harm  than  good  without  it,  but  if  followed 
by  a fresh  bath,  cannot  but  be  advantageous. 

Taking  the  sponge  bath  as  the  best  for  ordinary  pur- 
poses, we  must  point  out  some  rules  in  its  use.  The 
sponge  being  nearly  a foot  in  length,  and  six  inches  broad, 
must  be  allowed  to  fill  completely  with  water,  and  the 
part  of  the  body  which  should  be  first  attacked  is  the 
stomach.  It  is  there  that  the  most  heat  has  collected 
during  the  night,  and  the  application  of  cold  water  quick- 
ens the  circulation  at  once,  and  sends  the  blood  which  has 
been  employed  in  digestion  round  the  whole  body.  The 
head  should  next  be  soused,  unless  the  person  be  of  full 
habit  when  the  head  should  be  attacked  before  the  feel 
touch  the  cold  water  at  all.  Some  persons  use  a small 
hand  shower  bath,  which  is  less  powerful  than  the  com- 
mon shower  bath,  and  does  almost  as  much  good.  The 
use  of  soap  in  the  morning  bath  is  an  open  question.  1 


INSIDE  THE  DKESSING-ECOM. 


3ontbss  a preference  for  a rough  towel  or  a hair  glove 
Brummell  patronized  the  latter,  and  applied  it  for  nearlj 
a quarter  of  an  hour  every  morning. 

The  ancients  followed  up  the  bath  by  anointing  the 
body,  and  athletic  exercises.  The  former  is  a mistake; 
the  latter  an  excellent  practice  shamefully  neglected  ic 
the  present  day.  It  would  conduce  much  to  health  ind 
strength  if  every  morning  toilet  comprised  the  vigorous 
use  of  the  dumb-bells,  or,  still  better,  the  exercise  of  the 
arms  without  them.  The  best  plan  of  all  is,  to  choose 
some  object  in  your  bedroom  on  which  to  vent  your  hatred^ 
and  box  at  it  violently  for  some  ten  minutes,  till  the 
perspiration  covers  you.  The  sponge  must  then  be  again 
applied  to  the  whole  body.  It  is  very  desirable  to  remain 
without  clothing  as  long  as  possible,  and  I should  therefore 
recommend  that  every  part  of  the  toilet  which  can  con- 
veniently be  performed  withou:  dressing,  should  be  so. 

The  next  duty,  then,  must  be  to  clean  the  Teeth. 
Dentists  are  modern  inquisitors,  but  their  torture-rooms 
are  meant  only  for  the  foolish.  Everybody  is  born  with 
good  teeth,  and  evorybody  might  keep  them  good  by  a 
proper  diet,  and  the  avoidance  of  sweets  and  smoking. 
Of  the  two  the  former  are  perhaps  the  more  dangerous. 
Nothing  ruins  the  teeth  so  soon  as  sugar  in  one’s  tea,  and 
liighly  sweetened  tarts  and  puddings,  and  as  it  is  le  pre- 
mier pas  qui  coute^  these  should  be  particularly  avoided  in 
childhood.  When  the  teeth  attain  their  full  growth  and 
strength  it  takes  much  mere  to  destroy  either  vhe*r  en 
amel  or  their  substance. 

It  is  upon  the  teeth  that  the  effects  of  excess  are  firsi 
seen,  and  it  is  upon  the  teeth  that  the  odor  of  the  breatli 
depends  What  is  more  repulsive  than  a woman’s  smiU 


THE  TEETH 


115 


SiscovcriQg  a row  of  black  teeth,  unlcfei^  it  be  the  rank 
Bmell  of  the  breath  ? Both  involve  an  offence  of  joui 
neighbor’s  most  delicate  senses,  and  neither  can  therefore 
be  pardoned.  If  I may  not  say  that  it  is  a Christian  duty 
to  keep  your  teeth  clean,  I may  at  least  remind  you  that 
you  cannot  be  thoroughly  agreeable  without  doing  sc 
Ladies  particularly  must  remember  that  men  love  with 
their  eyes,  and  perhaps  I may  add  with  their  noses,  and 
that  these  details  do  not  escape  them.  In  fact,  there  arc 
few  details  in  women  that  do  escape  their  admirers,  and  if 
Brummell  broke  off  his  engagement  because  the  young 
lady  ate  cabbages,  there  are  numbers  of  men  in  the  pres* 
ent  day  who  would  be  disgusted  by  the  absence  of  refine- 
ment in  such  small  matters  as  the  teeth.  Let  words  be 
whsit  they  may,  if  they  come  with  an  impure  odor,  they 
cannot  please.  The  butterfly  loves  the  scent  of  the  rose 
more  than  its  honey. 

The  beau  just  mentioned  used  a red  root,  which  is  of 
oriental  origin.  It  is  not  so  penetrating  as  a good  hard 
tooth-brush,  with  a lather  of  saponaceous  tooth-powder 
upon  it.  The  Hindus,  who  have  particularly  white  teeth, 
use  sticks  of  different  woods  according  to  their  caste  ; bu^ 
perhaps  a preparation  of  soap  is  the  best  thing  that  can  be 
employed.  The  teeth  should  be  well  rubbed  inside  as  well 
as  outside,  and  the  back  teeth  even  more  than  the  front. 
The  mouth  should  then  be  rinsed,  if  not  seven  times,  ac- 
cording to  the  Hindu  legislator,  at  least  several  times, 
with  fresh  cold  water.  This  same  process  should  be  re- 
peated several  times  a day,  since  eating,  smoking,  and  sc 
forth,  naturally  render  the  teeth  and  mouth  dirty  more  or 
less,  and  nothing  can  be  so  offensive,  particularly  to  ladies, 
whose  sense  of  smell  seems  to  be  keener  thf  ji  that  of  the 


116 


INSIDE  THE  DRESSING-ROOM. 


other  sex,  and  who  can  detect  at  your  first  approaci 
whether  you  have  been  drinking  or  smoking.  But  if  onlj 
for  your  own  comfort,  you  should  brush  your  teeth  hot  I 
morning  and  evening,  w’hich  is  quite  requisite  for  the  pro 
servatron  of  their  soundness  and  color;  while  if  you  arc 
tc  mingle  with  others,  they  should  be  brushed,  or  at  least 
the  mouth  well  rinsed  after  every  meal,  still  more  after 
smoking,  or  drinking  wiiie,  beer  or  spirits.  No  amount 
of  general  attractiveness  can  compensate  for  an  olFensive 
odor  in  the  breath  ; and  none  of  the  senses  is  so  fine  a 
gentleman,  none  so  unforgiving  if  offended,  as  that  of 
smell.  The  following  reproof  was  well-merited,  if  not 
polite.  I have  had  the  wind  in  my  teeth  all  the  way,^’ 
said  an  Irishman,  after  a brisk  walk  on  a breezy  morn- 
ing, before  which  he  had  been  indulging  his  propensity 
to  onions.  “ Well,  sir,’’  replied  his  friend,  who  at  once 
perceived  how  he  had  breakfasted,  I must  say  that  the 
wind  had  the  worst  of  it.” 

The  custom  of  allowing  the  nails  to  grow  as  a proof 
of  freedom  from  the  necessity  of  working,  which  is  most 
absurdly  identified  with  gentility,  is  not  peculiar  to  China. 
In  some  parts  of  Italy  the  nails  of  the  left  hand  are  never 
cut  till  they  begin  to  break,  and  a Lombard  of  my  ac- 
quaintance once  presented  me  a huge  nail  which  he  had 
just  cut,  and  which  I must  do  him  the  justice  to  say  was 
perfectly  white.  I admired  it,  and  threw  it  away. 
‘‘  What !”  cried  he  indignantly,  is  that  the  way  you  re- 
ceive the  greatest  proof  of  friendship  which  a man  car 
give  you  ?”  and  he  then  explained  to  me  that  in  his  native 
province  the  nail  held  the  same  place  as  a lock  of  hair 
with  us.  I really  doubt  which  has  the  preference,  and 
whether  a Lothario’s  desk  filled  with  little  oily  packets  of 


THE  NAIIiS. 


117 

lifferent  coiored  hair  is  at  all  more  romant’.3  tliaii  a boA 
of  beloved  finger  nails.  Certainly  there  is  beauty  in  a 
long  silken  tress,  the  golden  tinge  reminding  us  of  the 
fair  head  of  some  lost  child  so  like  its  mother’s,  or  in  th^i 
rich  dark  curl  that,  in  the  boldest  hour  of  love,  we  raped 
from  her  head,  who  was  then  so  confidently  ours,  and 
now — What  is  she  now  ? But  even  this  fancy  can  take  a 
very  disagreeable  form,  and  what  can  we  say  of  an  ardent 
hopeless  lover  whom  I once  knew,  and  who  I was  assured 
gave  a guinea  to  a lady’s  maid  for  the  stray  hairs  left  in 
her  mistress’  comb  ! 

But  though  we  may  not  be  cultivating  our  nails  either 
to  tear  a rival’s  face  with,  or  to  confer  with  a majestic  con- 
descension on  some  importunate  admirer,  we  are  not  ab- 
solved from  paying  strict  attention  to  their  condition,  and 
that  both  as  regards  cleaning  and  cutting.  The  former  is 
best  done  with  a liberal  supply  of  soap  on  a small  nail- 
brush, which  should  be  used  before  every  meal,  if  you 
would  not  injure  your  neighbor’s  appetite.  While  the 
land  is  still  moist,  the  point  of  a small  pen-knife  or  pair 
of  stumpy  nail-scissors  should  be  passed  under  the  nails 
so  as  to  remove  every  vestige  of  dirt ; the  skin  should  be 
pushed  down  with  a towel,  that  the  white  half-moon  may 
be  seen,  and  the  finer  skin  removed  with  the  knife  or 
scissors.  Occasionally  the  edges  of  the  nails  should  be 
filed,  and  the  hard  skin  which  forms  round  the  corners 
them  cut  away  The  important  point  in  cutting  the  nails 
k tc  preserve  the  beauty  of  their  shape.  That  beauty 
even  in  details  is  worth  preserving  I have  already  remark 
ed,  and  we  may  study  it  as  much  in  paring  our  nails,  as 
in  the  grace  of  our  attitudes,  or  any  other  point  The 
shape,  then,  of  the  nail  should  approach  as  nearly  as 


118 


INSIDE  THE  DRESSING-ROOM. 


sible  to  the  oblong.  The  oriental  ladies  kno^v  this  and 
allow  the  nail  to  grow  to  an  enormous  length,  and  bend 
down  towards  the  finger.  Eut  then  they  cultivate  beauty 
ij3  every  detail,  for,  poor  things,  they  have  none  but  per 
f :nal  attractions  to  depend  on ; and  they  give  to  the  pin 
Miu  a peculiar  lustre  by  the  little  speck  of  purple  henna 
just  as  Parisian  beauties  pass  a line  of  blue  paint  under 
the  lower  eyelash ; perhaps,  too,  they  keep  their  fingers 
thus  well  armed  to  protect  themselves  from  angiy  pashas, 
or  even — but  let  us  hope  not — to  spoil  the  beauty  of  some 
iQore  favored  houri.  However  this  may  be,  the  length  ol 
I he  nail  is  an  open  question.  Let  it  be  often  cut,  but  al- 
ways long,  in  my  opinion.  Above  all,  let  it  be  well  cut, 
rmd  never  bitten.  Had  Brummell  broken  off  his  engage- 
ment because  the  young  lady  bit  her  nails,  I think  I could 
not  have  blamed  him. 

Perhaps  you  tell  me  these  are  childish  details.  DetailS: 
yes,  but  not  childish.  The  attention  to  details  is  the  true 
sign  of  a great  mind,  and  he  wdio  can  in  necessity  consider 
the  smallest,  is  the  same  man  who  can  compass  the  largest 
subjects.  Is  not  life  made  up  of  details  ? Must  not  the 
artist  who  has  conceived  a picture,  descend  from  the  dream 
of  his  mind  to  mix  colors  on  a palette?  Must  not  the 
great  commander  who  is  bowling  down  nations  and  setting 
up  monarchies  care  for  the  health  and  comfort,  the  bread 
and  beef  of  each  individual  soldier  ? I have  often  seen  a 
groat  poet,  whom  I knew  personally,  counting  on  his 
fing(  rs  the  feet  of  his  verses,  and  fretting  with  anything 
but  poetic  language,  because  he  could  not  get  his  sense 
into  as  many  syllables  What  if  his  nails  were  dirty  ? 
Let  genius  talk  of  abstract  beauty  and  philosophers  dog- 
matize on  order.  If  they  do  not  keep  their  nails  clean,  I 


chilblains. 


lift 


gfiall  call  them  both  charlatans.  The  man  who  really  lo\es 
beauty  will  cultivate  it  in  everything  around  him.  Tlu 
man  who  upholds  order  is  not  conscientious  if  he  cannot 
observe  it  in  his  nails.  The  great  mind  can  afford  to  de-* 
K^end  to  details ; it  is  only  the  weak  mind  that  fears  tc 
i?e  narrowed  by  them.  When  Napoleon  was  at  Municl 
lie  declined  the  grand  four-poster  of  the  Witelsbach  family, 
and  slept,  as  usual  in  his  little  camp-bed.  The  power  tc 
be  little  is  a proof  of  greatness. 

For  the  hands,  ears,  and  neck  we  want  something  more 
than  the  bath,  and  as  these  party  are  exposed  and  really 
lodge  fugitive  pollutions,  we  cannot  use  too  much  soap, 
)r  give  too  much  trouble  to  their  complete  purification. 
Nothing  is  lovelier  than  a woman’s  small  white  shell-like 
ear;  few  things  reconcile  us  better  to  earth  than  th^ 
cold  hand  and  warm  heart  of  a friend ; but  to  complete 
the  charm,  the  hand  should  be  both  clean  and  soft.  Warm 
water,  a liberal  use  of  the  nail-brush,  and  no  stint  of 
soap,  produce  this  amenity  far  more  effectually  than 
honey,  cold  cream,  and  almond  paste.  Of  wearing  gloves 
I shall  speak  elsewhere,  but  for  weak  people  who  are 
troubled  with  chilblains,  they  are  indispensable  all  the 
year  round.  I will  add  a good  prescription  for  the  cure 
f chilblains,  which  are  both  a disfigurement,  and  one  of 
cue  petites  misires  of  human  life. 

Roll  the  fingers  in  linen  bandages,  sew  them  up  well, 
and  dip  them  twice  or  thrice  a day  in  a mixture,  con- 
sisting of  half  a fluid  ounce  of  tincture  of  capsicum,  and 
a flaid  ounce  of  tincture  of  opium.” 

Q'he  person  who  invented  razors  libelled  Nature,  and 
add  3d  a fresh  misery  to  the  days  of  man.  Ah  !”  said 
Diogones,  who  would  never  consent  to  be  shaved,  would 


120 


INSIP  E THE  DRESSING-ROOM, 


you  insinuate  that  Nature  had  done  better  to  make  jc  u*a 
woman  than  a man?”  As  for  barbers,  they  have  always 
been  gossips  and  mischief-makers,  and  Arkwright,  \^ho 
inyented  spinning  by  rollers,  scarcely  redeemed  his  trade 
from  universal  dishonor.  They  have  been  the  evil  spirits 
t f great  men  too,  whom  they  shaved  and  bearded  in  their 
private  closets.  It  was  a barber  who  helped  the  late 
King  of  Oude  to  ruin  the  country  he  governed ; and  it 
was  a barber  who,  at  the  beginning  of  the  present  centu- 
ry, was  the  bottle-imp  of  a Bishop  of  Hereford.  Who  in 
fact  can  respect  a man  whose  sole  office  is  to  deprive  his 
sex  of  their  distinctive  feature  ? 

It  is  said  that  Alexander  the  Great  introduced  shaving, 
to  prevent  his  soldiers  being  caught  by  the  beard  by  their 
enemies,  but  the  conqueror  of  Asia  must  be  absolved  of 
priority  in  this  iniquitous  custom,  which  he  probably 
found  prevalent  in  the  countries  he  invaded.  At  any 
rate  it  would  appear  that  the  Budhist  priests  of  India 
were  ashamed  of  their  locks  at  least  a century  before,  and 
this  reminds  me  that  shaving  and  fanaticism  have  always 
gone  together.  The  custom  of  the  clergy  wearing  a 
womanish  face  is  purely  Romanist,  and  I rejoice  to  see 
that  many  a good  preacher  in  the  present  day  is  not 
afraid  to  follow  Cranmer  and  other  fathers  of  our  Church 
in  wearing  a goodly  beard.  The  Romish  priests  were 
first  ordered  to  shave  when  transubstantiation  was  estab- 
iiahed,  from  a fear  that  the  beard  might  fall  into  the  cup. 
It  is  clear  that  a Protestant  chin  ought  to  be  well  covered 

Whatever  be  said  of  the  clergy,  the  custom  of  snaving 
came  to  this  country  like  many  other  ugly  personal  habits, 
with  the  foreign  monarens.  As  long  as  we  had  Planta- 
genets,  Tudors,  and  Stuarts  on  the  throne  we  were  men 


THE  BEAKD. 


12: 


!i9  to  the  out^\ard  form.  William  of  Orange  wdi  asham- 
ed of  that  very  appendage  which  it  is  a disgrace  to  a 
Mussulman  to  be  without.  Peter  the  Great  had  already 
proved  that  barber  and  barbarian  are  derived  from  iht 
same  root,  by  laying  a tax  on  all  capillary  ornaments. 

In  England  there  has  always  been  a great  distinction 
between  civil  and  military  men,  and  this  is  the  only  coun- 
try in  the  world  where  the  latter  have  been  held  in  such 
dislike,  as  to  compel  them  to  abandon  their  uniform  in 
everyday  life.  Perhaps  it  was  on  this  account  that  ci- 
vilians in  general  adopted  the  coutiimes  of  the  learned 
professions,  lest  they  should  be  thought  to  belong  to  that 
of  the  sword.  The  beard  and  the  rapier  went  out  to- 
gether at  the  beginning  of  the  last  century.  In  the  pres- 
ent day  many  a young  shop-boy  joins  the  moustache 
movement”  solely  with  a hope  of  being  mistaken  for  a 
captain.” 

Whatever  Punch  may  say,  the  moustache  and  beard 
movement  is  one  in  the  right  direction,  proving  that  men 
are  beginning  to  appreciate  beauty  and  to  acknowledge 
that  Nature  is  the  best  valet.  But  it  is  very  amusing  to 
hear  men  excusing  their  vanity  on  the  plea  of  health,  and 
find  them  indulging  in  the  hideous  Newgate  frill”*  as  a 
kind  of  compromise  between  the  beard  and  the  razor. 
There  was  a time  when  it  was  thought  a presumption  and 
vanity  to  wear  one’s  own  hair  instead  of  the  frightful 
elaborations  of  the  wig-makers,  and  the  false  curls  which 
^ir  Godfrey  Kneller  did  his  best  to  make  graceful  on 
canvas.  Who  knows  that  at  some  future  age  some  Punch 
of  the  twenty-first  century  may  not  ridicule  the  wearing 
of  one’s  own  teeth  instead  of  the  dentist’s  ? At  any  rat-6 
Nature  knows  best,  and  no  man  need  be  ashamed  of  show- 
6 


122  INSIDE  THE  DRESSING-ROOM.  . ^ 

ing  his  manhood  in  the  hair  of  his  face.  Of  razors  ind 
shaving  therefore  I shall  only  speak  from  necessity, 
canse,  until  everybody  is  sensible  on  this  point,  they  udl’ 
^till  be  used. 

Napoleon  shaved  himself.  A born  king,’^  said  lie 
has  another  to  shave  him.  A made  king  can  use  hi^ 
*wn  razor.’’  But  the  war  he  made  on  his  chin  was  very 
different  to  that  he  made  on  foreign  potentates.  He  took 
a very  long  time  to  effect  it,  talking  between  whiles  to  his 
hangers-on.  The  great  man,  however,  was  right,  and 
every  sensible  man  will  shave  himself,  if  only  as  an  exer- 
cise of  character,  for  a man  should  learn  to  live  in  every 
detail  without  assistance.  Moreover,  in  most  cases  'we 
shave  ourselves  better  than  barbers  can  do.  If  we  shave 
at  all,  we  should  do  it  thoroughly,  and  every  morning 
nothing,  except  a frown  and  a hay-fever,  makes  the  1‘aco 
look  so  unlovely  as  a chin  covered  with  short  stubble^ 
The  chief  requirements  are  hot  water,  a large  soft  brush 
of  badger  hair,  a good  razor,  soft  soap  that  will  not  dry 
rapidly,  and  a steady  hand.  Cheap  razors  are  a fallacy. 
They  soon  lose  their  edge,  and  no  amount  of  stropping 
will  restore  it.  A good  razor  needs  no  strop.  If  you 
can  afford  it,  you  should  have  a case  of  seven  razors,  one 
for  each  day  of  the  week,  so  that  no  one  shall  be  too  much 
used.  There  are  now  much  used  packets  of  papers  of  a 
certain  kind  on  which  to  wipe  the  razor,  and  which  keep 
its  edge  keen,  and  are  a substitute  for  the  strop. 

I may  here  remark,  that  the  use  of  violet-powder  aftei 
shaving,  now  very  common  among  well-dressed  men,  is 
one  that  should  be  avoided.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  al- 
most always  visible,  and  gives  an  unnatural  look  to  the 
Gspce  I know  a young  lady  who  being  aflSicted  with  a 


WHISKERS. 


123 


redness  in  a feature  above  the  chin,  is  in  the  habit  of  pow- 
dering it.  For  a long  time  I thought  her  charming,  but 
since  I made  the  discovery  I can  never  look  at  her  with- 
out a painful  association  with  the  pepper-caster.  Violet- 
owder  also  makes  the  skin  rough,  and  enlarges  the  poros 
f it  sooner  or  later. 

Beards,  moustaches^  and  whiskers,  have  always  been 
most  important  additions  to  the  face.  Italian  conspira- 
tors are  known  by  the  cut  of  those  they  wear ; and  it  is 
not  long  since  an  Englishman  with  a beard  was  set  down 
as  an  artist  or  a philosopher.  In  the  present  day  literary 
men  are  much  given  to  their  growth,  and  in  that  respect 
snow  at  once  their  taste  and  their  vanity.  Let  no  man 
be  ashamed  of  his  beard,  if  it  be  well  kept  and  not  fantas- 
tically cut.  The  moustache  should  be  kept  within  limits. 
The  Hungarians  wear  it  so  long  that  they  can  tie  the 
ends  round  their  heads.  The  style  of  the  beard  should 
be  adopted  to  suit  the  face.  A broad  face  should  wear  a 
large  full  one ; a long  face  is  improved  by  a sharp-pointed 
one.  Taylor,  the  water  poet,  wrote  verses  on  the  vari- 
ous styles,  and  they  are  almost  numberless.  The  chief 
point  is  to  keep  the  beard  well-combed  and  in  neat  trim. 

As  to  whiskers,  it  is  not  every  man  who  can  achieve  a 
pair  of  full  length.  There  is  certainly  a great  vanity 
about  them^  but  it  may  be  generally  said  that  foppishness 
should  be  avoided  in  this  as  in  most  other  points.  Abovo 
all  the  whiskers  should  never  be  curled,  nor  pulled  out  tc 
an  absurd  length.  Still  worse  is  it  to  cut  them  close  with 
the  scissors.  The  moustache  should  be  neat  and  not  toe 
large,  and  such  fopperies  as  curling  the  points  thereof,  cr 
twisting  them  up  to  the  fineness  of  needles- -though  pa- 
tronized by  the  Emperor  of  the  French-  -are  decidedly  ^ 


124 


INSIDE  THE  DRESSING-ROOM. 


prool‘  of  vanity.  If  a man  wear  the  hair  on  his  face 
which  nature  has  given  him,  in  the  manner  that  nature 
iistributes  it,  keeps  it  clean,  and  prevents  its  overgrowth, 
he  cannot  do  wrong.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  applies  to 
Marie  Coupelle,  and  other  advertisers,  because  he  believer 
jhat  those  dear  silky  whiskers”  will  find  favor  in  th 
eyes  of  the  fair,  he  will,  if  unsuccessful,  waste  much 
money — if  successful,  incur  the  risk  of  appearing  ridicu- 
lous. All  extravagancies  are  vulgar,  because  they  are 
evidence  of  a pretence  to  being  better  than  you  are ; but 
a single  extravagance  unsupported  is  periiaps  worse  than 
a numbei  together,  which  have  at  least  the  merit  of  con- 
sistency. If  you  copy  puppies  in  the  half-yard  of  whis- 
ker, you  should  have  their  dress  and  their  manner  too 
if  you  would  not  appear  doubly  absurd. 

The  same  remarks  apply  to  the  arrangment  of  the  hail 
in  men  which  should  be  as  simple  and  as  natural  as  pos- 
sible, but  at  the  same  time  a little  may  be  granted  t5  beauty 
and  the  requirements  of  the  face.  For  my  part  I can  see 
nothing  unmanly  in  wearing  long  hair  though  undoubted- 
ly it  is  inconvenient  and  a temptation  to  vanity,  wh‘le  its 
arranorement  would  demand  an  amount  of  time  and  atten- 

O 

tion  which  i«  unworthy  of  a man.  Bat  every  nation  and 
every  age  has  had  a different  custom  in  this  respect,  and 
to  this  day  even  in  Europe  the  hair  is  sometimes  worn 
long.  The  German  student  is  particularly  partial  to  hya- 
ointlime  locks  curling  over  a black  velvet  coat ; and  tho 
>>asant  of  Brittany  looks  very  handsome,  if  not  always 
?)ean,  with  his  love-locks  hanging  straight  down  under  a 
broad  cavalier  hat.  Religion  has  generally  taken  up  the 
matter  severely  The  old  fathers  preached  and  railed 
igainst  wigs,  tlie  Calvinists  raised  an  insurrection  in  Bor 


THE  HAIR. 


12£ 


Jeaux  on  the  same  account,  and  English  Rouniheads  con- 
signed to  an  unmentionable  place  every  man  who  allowei] 
his  hair  to  grow  according  to  nature  The  Romans  con 
demned  tresses  as  unmanly,  and  in  France  in  the  middh 
ages  the  privilege  to  wear  them  was  confined  to  royalty 
Our  modern  custom  was  a revival  of  the  French  revolu- 
tion, so  that  in  this  respect  we  are  now  republican  as  well 
as  puritanical. 

If  we  conform  to  fashion  w'^e  should  at  least  make  the 
best  of  it,  and  since  the  main  advantage  of  short  hair  is 
its  neatness,  we  should  take  care  to  keep  ours  neat.  This 
should  be  done  first  by  frequent  visits  to  the  barber,  for 
if  the  hair  is  to  be  short  at  all  it  should  be  very  short, 
and  nothing  looks  more  untidy  than  long,  stiff,  uncurled 
masses  sticking  out  over  the  ears.  If  it  curls  naturally 
so  much  the  better,  but  if  not  it  will  be  easier  to  keep  in 
order.  The  next  point  is  to  wash  the  head  every  morning, 
which,  when  once  habitual,  is  a great  preservative  against 
cold.  I never  have  more  than  one  cold  per  annum,  and  I 
attribute  this  to  my  use  of  the  morning  bath,  and  regular 
washing  of  my  head.  A pair  of  large  brushes,  hard  or 
soft,  as  your  case  requires,  should  be  used,  not  to  hammer 
he  head  with,  but  to  pass  up  under  the  hair  so  as  to  reach 
the  roots.  As  to  pomatum,  Macassar,  and  other  inven- 
tions of  the  hairdresser,  I have  only  to  say  that,  if  used 
at  all,  it  should  be  in  moderation,  and  never  sufficiently  tc 
make  their  scent  perceptible  in  company.  Of  course  the 
rrangment  will  be  a matter  of  individual  taste,  but  ruf 
the  middle  of  the  hair  is  the  natural  place  for  a pariijig 
it  is  rather  a silly  prejudice  to  think  a man  vain  who  p:u  r? 
his  hair  in  the  centre.  He  is  less  blamable  than  one  wliO 
is  too  lazy  to  part  it  at  all,  and  has  always  the  appeai  anca 
ef  having  lust  sot  un. 


126 


IKSIDE  DRESSING-ROOM. 


(Jf  wigs  and  false  hair,  the  subject  of  satires  and  sei 
aions  since  the  days  of  the  Roman  emperors,  T shall  saj 
nothing  here  except  that  they  are  a practical  falsehood 
which  may  sometimes  be  necessary,  but  is  rarely  success* 
ful  Fcr  my  part  I prefer  the  snows  of  life’s  winter  to  the 
best  made  peruke,  and  even  a bald  head  to  an  inferior  wig. 

When  gentlemen  wore  armor,  and  disdained  the  use  of 
their  legs,  an  esquire  was  a necessity ; and  we  can  under- 
stand that,  in  the  days  of  the  Beaux,  the  word  ‘‘gentle- 
man” meant  a man  and  his  valet.  I am  glad  to  say  that 
in  the  present  day  it  only  takes  one  man  to  make  a gentle- 
man, or,  at  most,  a man  and  a ninth — that  is,  including 
the  tailor.  It  is  an  excellent  thing  for  the  character  to 
be  neat  and  orderly,  and,  if  a man  neglects  to  be  so  in  his 
room,  he  is  open  to  the  same  temptation  sooner  or  later  in 
his  person.  A dressing-case  is,  therefore,  a desideratum. 
A closet  to  hang  up  cloth  clothes,  which  should  never  be 
folded,  and  a small  dressing-room  next  to  the  bed-room, 
are  not  so  easily  attainable.  But  the  man  who  throws  his 
clothes  about  the  room,  a boot  in  one  corner,  a cravat  in 
another,  and  his  brushes  anywhere,  is  not  a man  of  goo<l 
habits.  The  spirit  of  order  should  extend  to  everything 
aboQt  him. 


CHAPTER  n. 


THE  lady’s  toilet. 

&0  particular  has  the  present  generation  mo  laorf 
fagiWious  than  in  what  is  requisite  for  the  use  of  ladietf 
in  their  own  dressing-rooms.  Essences,  powders,  pastes 
washes  for  the  hair,  washes  for  the  skin,  recal  the  days  of 
one’s  grandmother,  when  such  appurtenances  were  though^ 
essential  and  were  essential : for  our  great-grandmothers 
were  not  rigid  in  points  of  personal  cleanliness ; and  it  is 
only  uncleanliness  that  requires  scents  to  conceal  it,  and 
applications  to  repair  its  ravages.  Our  great-grandmoth- 
ers wore  powder  and  pomatum,  and  had  their  hair  dressed 
three  times  a week  ; going  to  bed  in  the  cushioned  struct- 
ure, after  suffering  torture  for  some  hours  lest  they  should, 
in  the  weakness  of  human  infirmity,  lean  back  in  their 
chairs.  Our  great-grandmothers,  too,  had  their  white  kid 
gloves  sewn  to  the  bottom  of  each  sleeve,  lest  they  should 
incur  the  calamity  of  a sun-burnt  arm.  Our  great-grand- 
mothers were  afraid  of  cold  water,  and  delicately  iviped 
their  faces  with  the  corner  of  a towel  no  larger  than  a 
pocket  handkerchief.  There  were  those  amongst  them 
who  boasted  that  they  had  never  washed  their  faces  in 
heir  whole  span  of  existence,  lest  it  should  spoil  their 
.X)mplexions,  but  had  only  passed  a cambric  handkerchief 
over  the  delicate  brow  and  cheeks,  wetted  with  elder- 
fiower  water  or  rose  water.  I believe  the  nearest  ap» 

(127) 


128 


THE  lady's  toilet 


proach  to  the  ablution  we  now  diurnallj  practise  was  tht 
bathing  their  lovely  countenances  in  May-dew,  esteemed 
the  finest  thhig  in  the  morning  for  the  skin  by  our  belles 
of  the  last  century : so  they  turned  out  betimes  m high 
heeled  shoes  and  ir glig  s^  trotted  down  the  old  avenues 
of  many  a patriarchal  home  to  the  meadow,  and  saturat- 
ing their  kerchiefs  in  May-dew,  refreshed  with  it  the  cheeks 
(lushed  over-night  at  quadrille  or  great  cassino,  and  went 
home  contented  that  a conscientious  duty  had  been  per 
formed  ! 

Nor  were  they  wrong.  Some  wise  fairy  of  old  must 
have  inspired  the  nymph  whom  she  loved  with  the  belief 
in  May  dew  ; tradition  handed  down  the  counsel  from  one 
generation  to  another,  the  fairy,  or  gnome,  smiling  all  the 
while  as  she  saw  the  lovely  procession  of  the  squires’  young 
daughters  steal  out  and  bend  down  amid  the  butter-cups 
and  ladies’ -smock  in  the  meadow : she  smiled,  and,  as  she 
smiled,  wafted  to  them  good  health,  good  spirits,  and  their 
type — bloom.  She  had  induced  them  by  a stratagem — 
Heaven  pity  her  pious  fraud  ! — to  take  a preliminary  step 
to  beauty  and  its  preservation : she  had  beguiled  them  into 
early  rising. 

For  gentle  ladies,  you  may  wash,  may  bathe  your  forms 
and  faces,  curl  your  locks,  and  shake  out  your  crinoline ; 
ts€  every  essence  Atkinson  has,  wherewith  to  arrest  the 
attention  of  wistful  passers-by ; you  may  walk  by  the 
hour,  eat  by  rule,  take  beauty-sleep  before  midnight,  yet, 
if  you  are  very  long  after  the 

“ Sanguine  sunrise  with  his  meteor  eyes”* 

£1  coming  out  and  abroad  from  your  chambers,  youth  will 


Shelley. 


EARLY  RISING. 


129 


not  stay  with  you  out  his  time,  but,  Lke  an  ill-behaveo 
apprentice,  will  break  his  indentures,  and  vow  that  he  can- 
not abide  with  you.  It  is  true  that  rules  for  habitual  ear!  v 
rising  cannot  be  laid  down  for  every  one,  without  especial 
reference  to  other  habits;  very  early  rising,  after  latt 
parties,  or  great  fatigue  on  the  previous  day,  or  extreme 
delicacy  of  the  lungs  or  throat,  might  even  be  porniciens, 
and  its  use  or  abuse  must  be  regulated  by  the  physician 
In  those  cases  the  advice  that  is  now  given  is  for  persons 
in  an  ordinary  condition  of  health.  For  them,  and  even 
with  some  exceptions  for  invalids,  there  can  be  no  habit  of 
the  day  or  life  so  important,  as  far  as  good  looks  are  con- 
cerned, as  early  rising.  All  other  animals  whose  health 
is  of  importance  to  man  are  forced  to  rise  early.  The 
horse,  on  whose  good  condition  his  beauty,  and  therefore 
his  value  depends,  is  exercised  as  early  as  possible.  Our 
cattle  on  the  uplands  scent  the  morning  breeze  as  it  brings 
the  odors  of  the  woodbine ; the  little  house-dog  pants  till 
he  can  rush  forth  from  the  pent-up  heated  chamber  to  the 
fresh  lawn ; and  why  is  this  obvious  law  of  nature  of  so 
great  importance  to  these  objects  of  preference  or  of  value ) 
The  morning  air  is  more  strengthening,  has  a great  pro* 
portion  of  oxygen,  be  it  replied,  than  any  other  breeze 
that  refreshes  us  by  day,  or  when  the  pale  purple  even’^ 
warns  us  that  our  enjoyment  of  its  delicious  sensations  are 
not  devoid  of  danger.  No  one  catches  cold  in  the  morn- 
ing air,  at  least  with  the  ordinary  prudence  of  sufficient 
clothing.  Fortified  by  sleep,  the  change  of  atmosphere  is 
most  salubrious.  To  the  careless  and  happy,  what  can  be 
more  delightful  tlian  to  feel  all  the  freshness  of  nature 
soothing  every  sense,  whilst  the  great  world  and  its  inter- 
0Sts  and  troubles  is  silent  and  slumbers  ? And  it  is  this 
6* 


180  INSIDE  THE  DflESbTNG-ilOOM. 

fresh  breeze  this  emancipation  from  the  pent-uj  chaml>er 
this  reviving  influence,  that  c^ombine  to  form  a restorati 
such  as  neither  medicme  nor  regimen  can  offer ; that  pre- 
serves looks,  appetite  for  food,  aiid  bloom  and  delicacv  of 
v^omplexion. 

An  aged  clergyman  who  b"^d  known  not  one  day's  ill 
ness  was  asked  his  secret : Dry  feet  and  early  rising,’' 
was  his  reply;  these  are  my  only  two  precautions.” 

With  regard  then  to  what  a French  author  calls  “a 
whole  Cyclopaedia  cf  narcotics,”  young  women  forget  that 
there  is  no  royal  road  to  health  and  beauty.  They  must 
take  the  right  path  if  they  wish  to  reap  the  reward.  No 
person  in  good  health  should  remain  in  bed  after  seven 
j’clock,  or  half-past  seven,  in  the  spring  and  summer , 
that  may,  in  the  present  century,  when  the  daughters  of 
England  are  reproached  with  self-indulgence,  be  termed 
early  rising.  She  may  then  be  down  stairs  at  eight,  and 
without  taking  a long  and  fatiguing  walk,  saunter  in  the 
garden  a little ; or,  if  in  a large  town,  have  time  to  prac- 
tise, supposing  that  the  opportunity  of  going  out  into  the 
air  is  denied.  By  this  means,  that  vigor  which  is  the  very 
soul  of  comeliness,  the  absence  of  hurry  and  the  sense  of 
self-reproach  incurred  by  late  rising,  and  the  hunger  felt 
for  breakfast,  will  all  conduce  to  arrest  Time,  as  she  hovers 
over  his  wholesale  subjects,  and  to  beguile  him  into  sparing 
that  process  with  his  scythe  by  which  he  furrows  the  brow 
of  the  indolent  with  wrinkles,  whilst  he  colors  the  pool 
victim,  at  the  same  time,  with  his  own  pet  preparation 
of  saffron 

Suppose  then  that  this  first  and  vital  standing  order  foi 
the  toilet  be  stringent,  and  that  refreshed,  and  therefore 
energetic,  buoyant,  and  conscious  of  one  duty  being  at  least 


CLEANLINESS  ANL  EXERCISE. 


131 


performed,  the  lady  leaves  her  bed  and  prepares  to  dress 
L.  E.  L.  used  to  say,  for  she  was  no  early  riser,  that  w« 
begin  every  day  with  a struggle  and  a sacrifice.’’  But  the 
struggle  is  soon  changed  by  habit  into  an  eager  desire  te 
get  up ; and  the  sacrifice,  to  the  habitual  early  riser,  is  U 
be  in  bed.  She  rises  : if  in  summer,  throws  open  the 
window  for  a quarter  of  an  hour,  whilst  the  bath  is  being 
prepared,  then  closes  it  again,  until  the  ablutions  are  com- 
pleted. The  nature  of  these  must  be  guided  in  a great 
measure  by  the  general  health.  Of  all  bracing  processes, 
to  a sound  constitution,  that  of  the  shower-bath  is  the 
greatest.  It  should  be  used  however  ©nly  with  the  sanc- 
tion of  the  physician.  The  nervous  energy  is  invigorated 
by  it,  the  digestion,  a great  desideratum  for  the  complexion, 
is  improved  ; the  balance  of  circulation  between  the  viscera 
and  skin  is  maintained  ; and  taking  cold,  that  enemy  of 
the  graces,  rheums,  catarrhs,  and  sore  throats  are  kept 
off;  swelling  glands  are  prevented,  and  the  whole  powers 
of  the  frame  increase.  But,  since  the  reaction  is  not  in 
some  delicate  constitutions  sufficient  to  make  the  use  of 
the  shower-bath  desirable,  the  hip-bath,  half  filled  with 
tepid  water  at  first,  and  with  cold  afterwards,  or  the  spong 
ing  bath,  are  admirable  modifications  of  the  shower-bath. 
Thus  fortified,  the  lady  wffio  has  courage  to  conquer  a 
shower-bath,  or  to  plunge  into  a hip-bath,  can  face  the 
morning  air,  and  go  forth  with  the  self-earned  coat-of- 
aail,  as  a defence  against  all  that  ugly  family  of  jatarrhal 
Sections. 

We  iiow  come,  to  the  toilet-table.  This,  in  a lady’s  as 
well  as  in  a gentleman’s  room,  should  be  always  neatly 
set  out,  and  every  article  placed  where  it  can  be  most  ccn- 
veniently  used.  In  former  times,  vast  expense  used  to  bf 


132 


THE  lady’s  toilet. 


bestowed  on  china,  and  even  on  gold  and  silver  toilet 
services ; then  came  the  war,  and  the  national  poverty, 
and  those  luxurious  appliances  were  let  down,  if  not  aban 
doned.  We  have  now  resumed  them  with  a degree  of  c% 
pense  that  is  hardly  wise  or  consistent.  The  secrets  of 
the  toilet  were,  indeed,-  no  fancied  mysteries  in  formes 
days.  Until  the  first  twenty  years  of  this  century  had 
passed  away,  many  ladies  of  do?i  ton  thought  it  necessary^ 
in  order  to  complete  their  dress,  to  put  a touch  of  rouge 
on  either  cheek.  The  celebrated  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  was 
rouged  to  the  very  eyes ; those  beautiful  deep  blue  eyes 
of  hers.  The  old^ Duchess  of  R — enamelled,  and  usually 
fled  from  a room  when  the  window^s  were  opened,  as  the 
compound,  whatever  formed  of,  was  apt  to  dissolve  and 
run  down  the  face.  Queen  Caroline  (of  Brunswick)  was 
rouged  fearfully;  her  daughter,  noble  in  form,  fair  but 
pale  in  complexion,  disdained  the  art.  Whilst  th^^  rouged 
ladies  might  have  sung  or  said, 

“We  are  blushing  roses, 

Bending  with  our  fulness,’* 

that  gifted  and  lamented  princess  might  have  xnswered. 

“We  are  lilies  fair. 

The  flower  of  virgin  light. 

Nature  held  us  forth,  and  said, 

Lo  ! ‘ my  thoughts  of  white.  ’ ” * 

A.iid  it  was  certainly  remarkable,  that  after  the  Princess 
Charlotte’s  introduction  at  Court,  rouge,  wdiich  had  been 
the  rule,  became  the  exception,  and  that  young  people  gen-^ 
srally  never  used  it. 


♦ Hunt. 


ROUGE  AND  COSMETICS. 


138 


Still  there  were  other  means  resorted  to  for  attaining 
the  whiteness  of  skin  which  medical  men  dread,  but  which 
is  certainly  a very  striking  and  beautiful  characteristi^i 
of  an  English  woman.  I once  knew  a lady  who  was  bled 
from  time  to  time  to  keep  the  marble-like  w^hitencss  of 
her  complexion  ; others,  to  my  knowledge,  rub  their  faces: 
with  bread-crumbs  as  one  should  a drawing.  But,  wc.isl 
of  all,  the  use  of  pearl  powder,  or  of  violet  powder,  hae 
been  for  the  last  half  century  prevalent. 

Independent  of  all  sorts  of  art  being  unpleasant,  nc 
mistake  of  the  fair  one  is  greater  than  this.  She  may 
powder,  she  may  go  forth  with  a notion  that  the  pearly 
whiteness  of  her  brow,  her  neck,  wall  be  deemed  all  her 
own  ; but  there  are  lights  in  which  the  small  deception  will 
be  visible,  and  the  charm  of  all  coloring  is  gone  w^hen  it 
proves  to  be  artificial.  We  tremble  to  think  what  is  un- 
derneath. 

There  is  another  inconvenience  attached  to  the  use  of 
pearl  powder,  its  great  unwholesomeness.  It  checks  the 
natural  relief  of  the  skin,  perspiration  ; and  though  it 
may  not  always  injure  the  health,  it  dries  up  the  cuticle, 
and  invites  as  it  were  age  to  settle.  Where  pearl  powder 
Aas  been  made  an  article  of  habitual  use,  wrinkles  soon 
require  additional  layers  to  fill  it  up,  just  as  worn  out 
roads  have  ruts,  and  must  be  repaired  ; but  the  macada* 
mising  process  cannot  be  applied  to  wTinkles. 

Still  more  fatal  is  the  use  of  cosmetics ; its  extrava- 
gance, in  the  first  place,  is  an  evil ; but  I treat  not  of  the 
moral  question,  but  of  its  physical  effects.  Some  women 
spend  as  much  on  essences  and  sweet  waters  as  would 
enable  them  to  take  a journey,  and  thus  do  more  for  theii 
looks  than  all  that  a bureau  full  of  cosmetics  could  insure 


134 


THE  LADY'S  TOILET. 


Many  an  eruptive  disease  Las  arisen  from  the  desirr  cc 
make  tlie  skin  clear  ; above  all,  avoiil  specifics.  Youi 
friends  are  in  the  habit  of  saying,  such  a thing  is  goal 
for  the  complexion but  remember  that  complexion  is 
the  dial  of  constitution,  and  that  no  two  constitutions  are 
alike.  What  is  salutary  in  one  case,  may  produce  seriou® 
mischief  in  another. 

For  instance,  when  abroad^  a lady  who  had  been  very 
much  sunburnt  was  told  that  cucumbers  cut  into  slices  and 
put  into  cream,  produce  a decoction  that  would  take  oflf 
the  burning  effects  of  the  sun.  It  is,  in  fact,  a remedy 
used  by  German  ladies,  who  must  however  have  skins 
differently  constituted  than  ours  to  bear  it.  The  lady 
used  this  very  powerful  specific,  and  her  face  was  blister- 
ed. Nothing,  indeed,  but  time  and  cold  'weather  will  take 
away  the  effects  of  the  sun  : butter-milk,  from  its  gentle 
f),cid,  has  some  eflBcacy  on  certain  skins,  but  it  is  a disa- 
greeable remedy. 

The  softest  possible  water  ought,  however,  to  be  resort- 
ed to  in  washing  the  face  ; and  rain-water,  filtered,  is  in- 
comparably the  best.  Great  care  should  be  taken  not  to 
check  perspiration  by  washing  when  heated  ; these  are 
precautions  consistent  with  nature,  and  therefore  valuable 
The  water  should  be  dashed  freely  over  the  face  several 
times,  and  the  process  be  pursued  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  as  well  as  in  the  morning  and  at  dinner-time ; it  is 
true,  the  face  may,  without  that,  be  clean  all  day,  but  it 
will  not  be  fresh.  The  Turkish  towels  now  used  so  much 
are  excellent  foi  wiping,  as  they  do  that  important  opera° 
tion  not  only  thoroughly,  but  without  irritating  the  skin , 
the  body,  on  the  other  hand,  should  be  dried  with  a coarse 
huckaback^  an  article  unknown  in  France,  but  excellent 


THE  TRUE  COSMETICS. 


13i 


for  promoting  quick  circulation  in  the  frame  alter  bathing 
To  complete,  then,  the  toilet  so  far  as  the  person  is  con* 
cerned  ; with  few  or  no  cosmetics,  with  nothing  but  the 
use  of  soap  (the  old  brown  Windsor  being  still,  in  spite 
‘)f  all  modern  inventions,  far  the  best  for  the  skin,)  tu 
Lave  the  water  brought  in  fresh  in  the  morning,  as  tha 
in  the  room  is  seldom,  except  in  winter,  really  cool,  these 
are  the  simple  preservatives  of  the  skin^  which  it  is  very 
easy  to  injure  and  irritate,  and  very  difiScult  to  restore  to 
a healthy  condition.  It  must,  however,  be  remembered 
that  a healthy  condition  of  the  skin  depends  far  less  on 
external  than  on  internal  causes  ; and  that  good  health, 
maintained  by  early  rising,  and  a simple,  nutritive  diet,  is 
the  great  .originator  of  a clear  and  blooming  complexion. 
In  cases  of  eruption,  however,  do  nothing  without  good 
advice.  Many  an  eruption  which  poisons  the  comfort  even 
)f  the  strongest-minded  woman,  has  been  fixed  beyond 
3ure  by  dabblings  of  Eau-de-Cologne  on  the  face — thus 
3xciting  instead  of  allaying  the  fiery  enemy — milk  of 
roses,  essences,  and  cosmetics,  whose  name  is  Legion. 
Such  is  the  effect  of  desperation  on  the  female  mind,  that 
it  has  been  even  tried  whether  raw  veal  cutlets  being  put 
on  the  face  would  not  soften  and  improve  the  skin ; an  act 
of  folly  which  can  only  be  characterized  as  disgusting. 

Banish,  therefore,  if  free  from  any  cutaneous  disease, 
every  essence,  cosmetic,  or  sweet- water  from  your  toilet ; 
and  remember  that  to  keep  the  skin  smooth  and  clean,  all 
rubbing  and  touching  should  be  avoided : fresh  air.  when 
the  heat  of  the  sun  is  not  intense,  and  pure  water,  are 
the  best  and  only  cosmetics  that  can  be  used  without  pre* 
judice. 

There  are  many  alleviations  to  eruptive  comf  Jaints 


136 


THE  lady's  toilet. 


among  the  best  is  a solution  of  sulphur ; but  even  this 
should  never  be  resorted  to  without  advice,  and  in  the 
proper  proportions  In  many  cases,  however,  it  almost 
Immediately  removes  an  eruption,  by  cooling  the  skin  ; 
bence  it  will  be  seen  how  very  injurious  are  all  essences 
ivitli  spirit  in  them,  which  have  a tendency  to  heat  and 
inflammation. 

Do  you  want  luxuriant  hair?"  is  a question  we  see 
daily  in  the  papers,  answered,  of  course,  by  a specific.  If 
possible,  the  skin  of  the  head  requires  even  more  tender- 
ness and  cleanliness  than  any  other  portion  of  the  body, 
and  is  very  soon  capable  of  being  irritated  into  disease. 
In  respect  of  this,  as  of  the  complexion,  people  err  gene- 
rally, from  doing  too  much.  In  the  first  place,  the  most 
perfect  cleanliness  must  be  enjoined  ; formerly  the  use  of 
a fine-tooth  comb  was  considered  essential,  and  abroad  it 
is  still  resorted  to,  and  is  in  some  cases  salutary.  But,  in 
general,  to  the  careful  brusher  the  comb  is  not  essential. 
I say  the  careful  brusher,  for  great  harm  is  often  done  to 
the  hairs  by  rude,  sharp,  irregular  brus’.  ing.  The  hain 
should  be  separated  with  a comb,  so  that  the  head  and  not 
the  hairs  be  brushed.  The  brush  should  not  be  too  hard; 
it  may  slightly  redden  the  skin,  but  n > more  ; the  use  of 
pomatum  should  be  sparing,  and  confi  led  to  that  of  which 
the  ingredients  are  known — marrow  ? >nd  bear's  grease  are 
the  best,  and  the  former  is  most  eas  ly  obtained  genuine. 

^ All  scents  are  more  or  less  injurious  to  the  hair,  and  they 
dhould  be  used  in  the  slightest  possible  proportion.  To 
wash  the  roots  of  the  hair  from  time  to  time  with  weak 
vinegar  and  water,  or  with  a solution  of  ammonia,  cleanseg 
it  efiectually,  whilst  a yolk  of  an  egg  beaten  up  and  mix* 
ed  with  warm  water  is  excellent  for  the  skin  and  hair 


THE  HAIR. 


131 


bat  it  is  troublesome  to  wash  out,  and  must  be  done  by  a 
careful  maid.  There  is  no  risk,  but  great  benefit,  in  wash- 
ing even  the  luxuriant  hair'’  of  a person  in  health,  if 
lone  in  warm  weather,  and  well  dried,  or  by  a fiie ; and 

small  quantity  of  ammonia  insures  from  catching  cold. 
It  is  quite  a mistake  to  suppose  that  washing  the  hail 
makes  it  coarse ; it  renders  it  glossy  and  flexible  ; ths 
washing  cools  the  head,  the  heat  of  which  is  the  great 
source  of  baldness  and  grey  hairs ; it  prevents  all  that 
smell  from  very  thick  hair  which  is  detected  in  persons 
who  trust  to  the  brush  only  ; lastly,  it  is  one  of  the  most 
refreshing  personal  operations,  next  to  the  bath,  that  can 
be  devised. 

A lady’s  hair  should,  in  ordinary  life,  be  dressed  twice 
a day,  even  if  she  does  not  vary  the  mode.  To  keep  it 
iool  and  glossy,  it  requires  being  completely  taken  down 
m the  middle  of  the  day,  or  in  the  evening,  according  to 
the  dinner-hours.  The  taste  in  dressing  it  in  the  morning 
should  be  simple,  without  pins,  bows,  or  any  foreign  aux- 
iliary to  the  best  ornament  of  nature.  I do  not  mean  to 
deprecate  the  use  of  the  pads,  as  they  are  called,  or  sup- 
ports under  the  hair  used  at  this  time,  because  they  super* 
sede  the  necessity  of  frizzing,  which  is  always  a process 
most  injurious  to  the  hair ; but  I own  I object  much  to 
the  ends  of  black  lace,  bows  of  ribbon,  &c.,  used  by  many 
young  women  in  their  morning  coiffure : of  course,  foi 
thos9  past  girlhood,  and  not  old  enough  to  wear  caps,  the 
Oftse  is  different. 


CHAPTER  m. 


DRESS. 

* A STORY,’’  says  an  eminent  writer,  is  never  too  old 
k)  tell;  if  it  be  made  to  sound  new.”  If  this  be  true,  I 
may  be  excused  for  narrating  the  folloAving  veritable  his- 
tory : — In  an  Indian  jungle  there  once  resided  a tawnj 
jackal,  a member,  as  all  those  animals  are,  of  a jacka. 
club  which  met  at  night  in  the  said  jungle.  It  was  .the 
custom  for  the  different  subscribers  to  separate  early  in 
the  evening  on  predatory  excursions,  and  on  one  occasion 
the  individual  in  question  having  dined  very  sparingly  that 
day  on  a leg  of  horse,  ventured,  in  hopes  of  a supper, 
within  the  precincts  of  a neighboring  town.  It  happened 
that  while  employed  in  the  prowling  distinctive  of  his 
kind,  he  fell  into  a sunken  vat  filled  with  indigo,  and 
when  he  had  contrived  to  struggle  out  again,  discovered, 
by  the  light  of  the  moon,  that  his  coat  had  assumed  a 
brilliant  blue  tinge.  In  vain  he  rolled  himself  on  the 
grass,  in  vain  rubbed  his  sides  against  the  bushes  of  the 
jungle  to  which  he  speedily  returned.  The  blue  stuck  to 
him,  and  so,  with  the  acutenes  for  which  jackals  are  re- 
nowned, he  determined  to  “stick  to”  it.  Shame  indeed 
would  have  overcome  him,  ridicule  have  driven  him  to 
despair,  when  he  rejoined  his  club,  but  for  this  resola 
tion.  That  very  morning  he  appeared  among  his  kind 
whisking  his  tail  with  glee^  and  holding  his  head  erect 
\ titter,  of  course,  welcomed  him.  and,  before  Ion  , , oo 
' (138) 


FASHION  AND  ITS  LEADERS. 


139 


«rould  have  thought  that  every  jackal  present  hal  beer 
turned  into  a laughing  hyaena.  Our  hero  was  nothing 
abashed.  Gentlemen/’  said  he,  in  the  dialect  of  Hin- 
Justani  peculiar  to  his  kind,  ‘‘  I have  been  to  town,  anc 
iuiiig  you  the  last  new  fashion.”  The  laughter  changei 
to  respectful  admiration.  One  by  one  the  members  of 
the  club  stole  up  to  him  and  inquired  v/here  he  had  met 
with  the  coloring,  just  as  George  iv.  asked  Brummell 
what  tailor  had  made  that  coat.  The  address  was  im- 
oarted,  and  if  on  the  following  evening  not  all  of  the  prowl- 
ing beasts  appeared  in  a blue  coat,  it  was  only  because 
three  of  them  had  been  drowned  in  the  attempt  to  pro- 
cure it 

The  fable,  which  is  a real  Sanskrit  one,  will  at  once  re- 
mind us  of  one  concerning  that  sharp-nosed  quadruped 
which  farmers  denounce,  and  squires  combine  to  run  to 
death.  But  it  has  a moral  as  well  as  a satirical  bearing, 
a.nd  we  believe  that  this  moral  has  not  been  done  justice  to. 
Fashion  is  called  a despot ; but  if  men,  like  the  jackals 
and  foxes,  arc  willing,  nay,  eager  to  be  its  slaves,  we  can- 
not, and  ougHt  not,  to  upbraid  fashion.  Its  crowning  is, 
in  short,  nothing  more  than  the  confession  that  vanity 
makes  of  its  own  weakness.  We  must  be  vain;  we  art 
weak ; all  we  ask  is  to  be  guided  in  our  vanity. 

The  worst  of  it  is,  that  the  man  who  rebels  against 
foshion,  is  even  more  open  to  the  imputation  of  vanity 
than  he  who  obeys  it,  because  he  makes  himself  conspicu- 
ous, and  practically  announces  that  he  is  wiser  than  hia 
kind  There  cannot  be  greater  vulgarity  than  an  affecta- 
tion of  superior  simplicity.  Between  the  two  it  is  left  to 
the  man  of  sense  and  modesty  only  to  follow  fashion  sc  fai 
iS  not  to  make  himseT  peculiar  by  opposing  it. 


140 


DRESS. 


Dress  and  sin  came  in  together,  and  have  kepi  goJ 
fellowship  ever  since.  If  we  could  doubt,  as  some  have 
done,  the  authenticity  of  the  Pentateuch,  we  should  havf 
to  admit  that  its  author  was  at  least  the  shrewdest  ob 
server  of  mankind.^  inasmuch  as  he  makes  a love  of  dress 
the  first  consequence  of  the  Fail.  That  it  really  was  su. 
we  can  be  certain  from  the  fact  that  it  has  always  accom- 
panied an  absence  of  goodne.^s.  The  best  dressers  of  every 
age  have  always  been  the  w'orst  men  and  women.  We  dc 
not  pretend  that  the  converse  is  true,  and  that  the  best 
people  have  always  dressed  the  worst.  Plato  was  at  once 
a beau  and  a philosopher,  and  Descartes  was  the  former 
before  he  aspired  to  be  the  latter.  But  the  love  of  dress, 
take  it  as  you  will,  can  only  arise  from  one  of  two  closely 
allied  sins,  vanity  and  pride ; and  when  in  excess,  as  in 
the  miserable  beaux  of  different  ages,  it  becomes  as  ridic- 
ulous in  a man  as  the  glee  of  a South  Sea  islander  over  a 
handful  of  worthless  glass  beads.  No  life  can  be  more 
contemptible  than  one  of  which  the  Helicon  is  a tailor’s 
shop,  and  its  paradise  the  Park ; no  man  more  truly 
wretched  than  he  whose  mind  is  only  a mirror  of  his  body, 
and  whose  soul  can  fly  no  higher  than  a hat  or  a neck-tie  ; 
wFo  strangles  ambition  with  a yard-measure,  and  sufibcatea 
glory  in  a boot.  But  this  puny  peacockism  always  brings 
its  own  punishment.  The  fop  ruins  himself  by  his  vanity, 
and  ends  a sloven,  like  Goodman,  first  a well-dressed  stu- 
dent of  Cambridge,  then  an  actor,  then  a highwayman^ 
who  was  at  last  reduced  to  share  a shirt  with  a fellow- 
fool,  and  had  to  keep  his  room  on  the  days  when  the  cthei 
wore  it. 

But  we  must  not  suppose  that  this  vanity  lies  in  the 
following  more  than  in  the  outraging  of  fashion  ; and  if 


NEW  AKD  OLD  FASHIONS. 


14i 


there  were  no  such  thing  as  a universal  rule  cf  dress,  we 
may  be  confident  that  there  would  be  just  as  much,  if  not 
more  foppery,  where  each  could  dress  as  he  liked.  When 
it  could  not  glory  in  the  roll  of  a coat-collar  or  the  turr 
of  a hat-biiin,  it  would  show  itself  in  richness  of  stiiffa 
^nd  splendors  of  ornaments ; and  while  fashion  has  to  be 
blamed  for  many  extravagances,  the  gold  chains  of  one  age^ 
the  huge  wigs  of  another,  and  the  crinoline  of  a third, 
we  must  rejoice  that  it  holds  so  severe  a sway  over  men’s 
minds,  when  we  find  that  at  another  period  ic  decrees  sim- 
plicity, and  legislates  to  put  down  superfluous  Ornament. 
The  wise  man,  therefore,  wdio  frets  at  its  follies,  will  at- 
tempt not  to  subvert,  but  rather  to  reform  it ; not  to  tear 
from  his  throne  a monarch  elected  by  universal  suffrage, 
who  will  instantly  be  reinstated,  but  to  lead  him  by  his 
own  example,  and,  if  possible,  by  his  voice,  to  make  simple 
and  sensible  enactments.  Better  a wise  despot  than  a silly 
republic. 

When  kings  were  the  ministers  of  fashion,  dress  was 
generally  costly  and  showy ; when  philosophers  were  its 
counsellors,  it  became  slovenly  and  untidy ; and  when,  as 
in  the  present  day,  it  is  led  by  private  gentlemen  and  pri- 
vate ladies,  it  is  often  absurd  a in  bad  taste,  but  gener- 
ally tends  towards  simplicity . ^t  is  certainly  amusing, 
when  looking -back  at  the  history  of  dress,  io  see  how  often 
the  story  of  the  blue  jackal  may  be  cited.  Wigs  were  in- 
flicted on  our  forefatiiers  by  a bald  monarch,  and  we  were 
tortured  by  stiff  cravats  and  high  shirt-collars,  because 
mother  had  tlie  king’s  evil  in  his  neek.  Long  skirts  pro- 
bably came  in  to  hide  a pair  of  ungainly  feet,  and  hoops 
were  innoduced  to  make  a queenly  waist  look  smaller  than 
it  was. 


142 


DRESS. 


Theie  is,  however,  a difference  between  the  f reiogati?^ 
of  fashion  and  that  of  other  despots.  While  we  are  bounJ 
to  yield  a general  obedience  to  his  laws,  we  nave  the  light 
without  a loss  of  caste,  to  disregard  any  which  are  mani 
festly  absurd  and  nconvenient.  If,  for  example,  a fashion 
i.ble  of  the  present  day,  to  whom  nature  had  given  an  uglj 
foot,  were  to  folbw  the  example  of  Fulk,  Duke  of  Anjou 
and  introduce  such  long  peaks  to  our  boots  that  we  could 
not  walk  in  them,  we  may  be  certain  that  their  use  would 
not  survive  a season,  and  would  be  confined  to  a class  who 
have  little  to  do  but  look  ornamental.  It  is  certainly  a 
consolation  to  find  that  in  the  present  day  the  fashions  of 
male  attire  are  restricted,  not  as  they  once  were,  by  royal 
edicts,  but  by  the  common  sense  of  men  who  know  that 
dress  ought  to  be  convenient  as  well  as  elegant.  With 
ladies  it  is  otherwise.  Woman  is  still  too  generally  be- 
lieved to  have  no  higher  mission  than  that  of  pleasing  the 
senses  rather  than  the  judgment  of  men,  and  so  many 
women  of  all  classes  are  idle,  that  a fashion,  liowever  pre- 
posterous, is  more  readily  accepted  and  more  universally 
adopted  by  them  than  by  the  stronger  sex.  And  this  ia 
the  case  even  when  the  reform  proposed  is  obviously  most 
advantageous.  How  difficult,  for  instance,  has  it  been  to 
abolish  the  stiff  black  hat  and  the  throat-cutting  collar, 
though  the  wide-awake  and  the  turned-dowm  collar  were  at 
once  more  graceful  and  more  comfortable.  How  complete- 
ly has  the  attempt  to  establish  the  peg-top”  been  a fail- 
are,  though  every  man  of  sense  who  values  his  health  must 
feel  that  a loose  covering  is  both  more  ^umiortable  and 
more  healthy  than  a tight  sheathing  of  cloth.  The  fact  is, 
that  there  is  a conservatism  in  fashion  which  hag  the  ap- 
pearance of  being  respectable,  but  is  really  slavish  and 


appropriateness. 


148 


silly  ; and  the  weekly  satirists  who  undertake  to  laugh 
down  its  extravagances  have  not  always  the  sense  to  ap 
predate  its  wisdom.  Those  in  fact  who  are  most  eager  ic 
the  blind  attack  on  fashion,  are  often  really  its  more  ah 
joct  and  least  sensible  servants.  To  condemn  a new  fash- 
ion only  because  it  is  new,  is  contemptibly  short-sighted 
and  the  old  wise  gentlemen  who  sneer  at  new-fangled  fan- 
cies” should  first  ascertain  whether  the  innovation  is  for 
the  better  or  the  Avorse. 

But,  after  aril,  the  changes  of  fashion  are  not  sufficiently 
rapid  or  violent  in  respect  of  men’s  dress,  to  make  even 
our  grandfathers  uncomfortable  on  account  of  their  pecu- 
liarity. If  the  hat-brim  and  coat-collar  have  lost  what 
was  once  considered  a graceful  curl,  if  huge  shirt-collars 
and  stiff  cravats  have  given  way  to  a freer  arrangement 
for  the  neck,  if  blue  swallow-tailed  coats  and  brass  buttons 
have  been  succeeded  by  blue  frocks  without  them,  and  buff 
waistcoats  with  painfully  tight  appendices,  by  white  Amist- 
coats  and  the  liberty  of  the  leg,  the  change  is  not  great 
enough  to  require  a new  race  of  tailors,  or  make  old  men 
ridiculous  even  in  our  streets.  But  while  an  old  man  in 
an  old  fashion  not  only  passes  muster,  but  seems  to  acquire 
additional  respectability  from  the  antiquity  of  his  style,  9i 
young  man  can  scarcely  adopt  his  grandfather’s  AvaYclrolif 
without  risking  a smile.  I remember  once  taking  a friend 
of  mine — a country  squire  of  one-and-twenty — to  dine 
with  some  extremely  fashionable  but  not  very  well-bred 
bachelors.  The  appearance  of  my  companion  wao  decid- 
edly antique  ; for,  conservative  to  the  back  ard  its  cover^ 
ing,  he  prided  himself  on  maintaining  the  style  of  his 
wortliy  progenitor.  I saw  that  the  eye-glasses  were  turned 
on  him  with  a look  of  mingled  pity  and  contempt,  and  in 


144 


DRESS. 


the  course  of  dinner  heard  the  following  remarks 
bet\^een  the  host  and  a guest : — 

Pray.  G — asked  a lisping  be  whiskered  exquisite 
of  the  former,  ‘‘  who  is  your  fine  old  English  gertleman  ? 
What  style  do  you  call  it?  Kather  George  the  Fcurih 
-^h 

Yes,  rather,’’  replied  the  host  ; ‘‘but,”  he  added  in  a 
whisper,  “ he  has  just  come  in  to  £12,000  a year  and 
B— Hall.” 

“ Oh  !— aw,  indeed  ! Then  of  course  he  can  afford  to 
be  eccentric.” 

This  brings  me  to  speak  of  certain  necessities  of  dress : 
the  first  of  which  I shall  take  is  appropriateness.  The 
age  of  the  individual  is  an  important  consideration  in  this 
respect ; and  a man  of  sixty  is  as  absurd  in  the  style  of 
nineteen  as  my  young  friend  in  the  high  cravat  of  Brum- 
mell’s  day.  I know  a gallant  colonel  who  is  master  of 
the  ceremonies  in  a gay  Tvatering-place,  and  who,  afraid  of 
the  prim  old-fashioned  tourniire  of  his  confreres  in  simi- 
lar localities,  is  to  be  seen,  though  his  hair  is  grey  and 
his  age  not  under  five-and-sixty,  in  a light  cut-away,  the 
“ peg-top”  continuations,  and  a turned-down  collar.  It 
may  be  what  younger  blades  will  wear  when  they  reach 
his  age,  but  in  the  present  day  the  effect  is  ridiculous. 
Wc  may,  therefore,  give  as  a general  rule,  that  after  the 
turning-point  of  life  a man  should  eschew  the  changes  of 
fashion  in  his  own  attire,  while  he  avoids  complaining  of 
it  in  the  young.  In  the  latter,  on  the  other  hand,  the  ob- 
gervance  of  these  changes  must  depend  partly  on  his  taste 
md  partly  on  his  position.  If  wise,  he  will  adopt  with 
alacrity  any  new  fashions  which  improve  the  grace  the 
ease,  the  healthfulness,  and  the  convenience  of  his  gar* 


APPROPKIATENESS. 


145 


ments.  lie  will  be  glad  of  greater  freedom  in  the  cut  o1 
his  cloth  clothes,  of  boots  with  elastic  sides  instead  oi 
troublesome  buttons  or  laces,  of  the  privilege  tc  turn  down 
his  collar,  and  so  forth,  while  he  will  avoid  as  extrava- 
gant . elaborate  shirt-fronts,  gold  bindings  on  the  waist- 
coat, and  expensive  buttons.  On  the  other  hand,  what- 
ever his  age,  he  will  have  some  respect  to  his  profession 
and  position  in  society.  He  will  remember  how  much 
the  appearance  of  the  man  aids  a judgment  of  his  char- 
acter, and  this  test,  which  has  often  been  cried  down,  ia 
in  reality  no  bad  one ; for  a man  who  does  not  dress  ap- 
propriately evinces  a want  of  ^vhat  is  most  necessary  to 
professional  men — tact  and  discretion.  I could  not,  for 
instance,  feel  confidence  in  a young  physician  dressed  as 
I am  accustomed  to  see  a guardsman ; while,  if  my  law- 
yer were  a dandy  in  his  office,  I should  be  inclined  to 
think  he  knew  more  of  gay  society  than  of  Coke  upon 
Lyttleton.  The  dress  of  the  clergy  is  not  an  arbitrary 
matter,  yet  I have  seen  ecclesiastics,  who,  abandoning  the 
white  choker,  lounge  in  an  easy  costume,  little  different 
from  that  of  their  undergraduate  days,  and  though  it  is 
certainly  hard  to  condemn  a man  for  life  to  the  miseries 
of  black  cloth,  we  have  a right  to  expect  that  he  should 
be  proud  rather  than  ashamed  of  the  badge  of  his  high 
calling. 

Position  in  society  demands  a like  appropriatenesB 
Well  knowing  the  worldly  value  of  a good  coat,  I would 
yet  never  recommend  a man  of  limited  means  to  aspire  t(- 
a fashionable  appearance.  In  the  first  place,  he  beconics 
thoreby  a walking  falsehood ; in  the  second,  he  cannot, 
without  running  into  debt,  which  is  another  term  for  dis- 
honesty,  maintain  the  style  he  has  adopted.  As  he  cm 


£46 


DRESS. 


not  afford  to  change  his  suits  as  rapidly  as  fashian  alters 
he  must  avoid  following  it  in  varying  details  He  wil 
rush  into  wide  sleeves  one  month,  in  the  hope  of  being 
fashionable,  and  before  his  coat  is  worn  out,  the  next 
month  will  bring  in  a narrow  sleeve.  We  cannot,  unfci- 
tunately,  like  Samuel  Pepys,  take  a long  cloak  now-a-days 
to  the  tailor’s,  to  be  cut  into  a short  one,  long  cloaks 
being  now  quite  out,”  as  he  tells  us.  Even  when  there 
is  no  poverty  in  the  case,  our  position  must  not  be  for- 
gotten. The  tradesman  will  win  neither  customers  nor 
friends  by  adorning  himself  in  the  mode  of  the  club- 
lounger,  and  the  clerk,  or  commercial  traveller,  who  dresses 
fashionably,  lays  himself  open  to  inquiries  as  to  his  ante- 
cedents, which  he  may  not  care  to  have  investigated.  In 
general,  it  may  be  said  that  there  is  vulgarity  in  dressing 
like  those  of  a class  above  us,  since  it  must  be  taken  as  a 
proof  of  pretension. 

I remember  going  to  church  m a remote  little  village 
on  the  borders  of  Wales,  and  being  surprised  to  see  enterj 
among  the  clodhoppers  and  simple  folk  of  tlje  place,  9 
couple  of  young  men  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion,  and 
wearing  yellow  kid  gloves  and  patent  leather  boots.  On 
inquiry  I found  them  to  be  the  sons  of  a rich  manufactur- 
er, who  had  himself  been  once  a working  man,  and  v ag 
residing  in  the  neighborhood.  I was  not  surprised, 
vulgar  pretension  was  here  carried  out  to  the  worst  ex- 
treme. Better-bred  men  would  have  known  that,  what 
ever  their  London  costume  a difference  must  be  made  m 
the  country.  The  rule  may  be  laid  down  that  whereve? 
we  are  we  should  assimilate,  as  far  as  convenient,  to  the 
customs  and  costumes  of  the  place.  While  I had  lio  wish 
to  see  the  sons  of  the  parmnu  appear  in  smock-frocks 


TOWN  AND  COUNTRY. 


m 

and  high-lows.  I was  reasonable  in  thinking  that  a rough 
er  style  of  dress  would  have  been  better,  and  this  may  be 
said  for  the  country  generally.  As  it  is  bad  taste  to  flaunt 
the  airs  of  the  town  among  provincials,  who  know  nothing 
^f  them,  it  is  worse  taste  to  display  the  dress  of  a city  in 
he  quiet  haunts  of  the  rustics.  The  law  which  we  hav€ 
enunciated,  that  all  attempts  at  distinction  by  means  of 
dress  is  vulgar  and  pretentious,  would  be  sufficient  argu« 
ment  against  wearing  London  fashions  in  the  country  ; but 
if  this  is  not  sufficient,  we  may  picture  the  inconvenience 
of  such  a measure  under  certain  circumstances.  Had  a 
shower  of  rain  descended  at  the  conclusion  of  rtie  ser- 
vice, our  two  young  sprigs  of  gentility  would  ha^*e  looked 
superbly  ridiculous  in  their  thin  boots  and  ligat  gloves, 
and  no  London  hansom  to  take  refuge  in,  to  ss^y  nothing 
of  spoiling  one’s  boots  and  catching  cold. 

While  in  most  cases  a rougher  and  easier  mode  of  dress 
is  both  admissible  and  desirable  in  the  country,  there  are 
many  occcasions  of  country  visiting  where  a town  man 
finds  it  difficult  to  decide.  It  is  almost  peculiar  to  the 
country  to  unite  the  amusements  of  the  daytime  with 
those  of  the  evening  ; of  the  open  air  with  those  of  the 
drawing-room.  Thus,  in  the  summer,  when  the  days  are 
long,  you  will  be  asked  to  a pic-nic  or  an  archery  party, 
which  will  wind  up  with  dancing  in-doors,  and  may  even 
assume  the  character  of  a ball.  If  you  are  aware  of  this 
befi rehand,  it  will  always  be  safe  to  send  your  evening 
Iress  to  your  host’s  house,  and  you  will  learn  from  th^ 
servants  whether  others  have  done  the  same,  and  whether 
therefore,  you  will  not  be  singular  in  asking  leave  to 
uiidiigt;  yuur  costume.  But  if  you  are  ignorant  how  ttiz 
day  is  to  end.  you  must  be  guided  partly  by  the  hour  of 


148 


DRESS. 


invitation,  and  partly  by  the  extent  of  your  intimacy  'wito 
the  family.  I have  actually  known  gentlemen  arrive  a$ 
a large  pic-nic  at  mid-day  in  complete  evening  dress,  and 
pitied  them  with  all  my  heart,  compelled  as  they  were  to 
suffer,  in  tight  black  clothes,  under  a hot  sun  for  eiglii 
hours,  and  dance  after  all  in  the  same  dress.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  you  are  asked  to  come  an  hour  or  two  before  sun- 
set, after  six  in  summer,  in  the  autumn  after  five,  you 
cannot  err  by  appearing  in  evening  dress.  It  is  always 
taken  as  a compliment  to  do  so,  and  if  your  acquaintance 
with  your  hostess  is  slight,  it  would  be  almost  a familiari- 
ty to  do  otherwise.  In  any  case  you  desire  to  avoid  sin- 
gularity, so  that  if  you  can  discover  what  others  who  are 
invited  intend  to  wear,  you  can  always  decide  on  your 
own  attire.  On  the  Continent  there  is  a convenient  ruh 
for  these  matters ; never  appear  after  four  in  the  after- 
noon in  morning  dress  ; but  then  grey  trousers  are  there 
allowed  instead  of  black,  and  white  waistcoats  are  still 
worn  in  the  evening.  At  any  rate,  it  is  possible  to  effect 
a compromise  between  the  two  styles  of  costume,  and  if 
you  are  likely  to  be  called  upon  to  dance  in  the  evening, 
it  will  be  well  to  wear  thin  boots,  a black  frock-coat,  and 
a small  black  neck-tie,  and  to  put  a pair  of  clean  white 
gloves  into  your  pocket.  You  will  thus  be  at  least  less 
conspicuous  in  the  dancing-room  than  in  a light  tweed  suit 
Englishm.en  are  undeniably  the  most  conservative  mci, 
k the  world,  and  in  nothing  do  they  show  it  more  univer 
sully  than  in  maintaining  their  usual  habits  in  any  country 
^’iuiate,  »^r  reason.  Anglais  en  voyaye  has  been 
tiunful  subject  of  ridicule  both  to  our  own  and  foreign 
writers^  and  I shall  therefore  content  myself  with  saying 
tivsLt,  while  I would  not  have  an  Englishman  adopt  every 


TRAVELLING. 


14^ 


Iroal  habit  or  every  fantastic  costume  cf  those  among  v hon: 
he  finds  himself,  I would  fain  see  him  avoid  that  distiRC 
ti\ene3S  in  both  which  is  set  down  by  our  neighbors  t^ 
pride  and  obstinacy.  Excellent,  for  instance,  is  the  cus- 
tom of  shaking  hands,  but  it  has  on  the  Continent  gene 
rally  a much  more  friendly  and  particular  signification,  an 
is  permitted  between  the  sexes  only  after  a long  intimacy 
In  feet,  a French  jeime  jille  never  takes  a gentleman*? 
hand  unless  he  is  quite  an  emi  de  la  maison^  so  that  for 
an  Englishman  at  a first  visit  to  shake  hands  all  round 
amounts  to  a familiarity.  I shall  never  forget  the  deep 
crimson  on  the  cheeks  of  a charming  girl  to  v/hom  I once 
introduced  an  English  friend,  and  who  was  too  well-bred  not 
to  touch  his  proffered  hand,  but  did  so  with  an  air  of  un- 
mistakable surprise.  Qu’est-ce  quo  e’est  que  votre  ami,’^ 
she  asked  me  afterwards  ; ‘‘<3st-ce  qu’il  vent  done  mVm- 
brasser?”  To  impose  the  manners  of  one’s  country  on 
the  people  of  another,  is  as  bad  as  to  revive  those  of  a 
past  century. 

In  the  middle  of  the  last  century  it  was  the  custom  for  a 
gentleman  on  entering  a room,  to  kiss  the  ladies  all  round 
on  the  cheek.  Had  not  my  French  friend  as  much  rignt 
0 blush,  as  any  English  young  lady  would  if  I were  to 
subject  her  to  the  practice  of  the  charming  but  obsolete 
custom  ? 

Can  anything  be  more  painfully  ridiculous  than  an  Ei^g* 
lishman  wearing  a black  silk  hat  and  frock-coat  of  eletb 
under  the  sun  of  the  equator  ? Yet  such  is  our  want  rf 
sense,  or  our  love  of  national  costumes,  however  hideous 
that  it  is  the  etiquette  in  our  colonies,  whether  in  tlm  tro- 
pics or  the  arctic  regions,  to  w^ear  precisely  the  same  stifi 
hoi  court  dress  as  at  St.  James’.  However  this  might 


150 


DHESS. 


excused  on  tlie  plea  of  uniformity  in  official  dress,  it  is  m 
excuse  for  the  fashion  which  imposes  the  coat,  &c.  of  I^alj 
Mall  on  the  gentleman  of  Calcutta  or  Colombo ; and  th# 
game  may  be  said  of  our  own  fashion  of  wearing  clolb 
ch)thes  throughout  the  year.  There  is  many  a summer' 
Jay  in  England  as  hot  as  any  in  Italy,  and  in  general  the 
difference  between  our  summer  and  that  of  France  and 
America  is,  that  there  the  heat  is  glaring  and  clear,  with 
us,  if  less  powerful,  close  and  oppressive.  Why  then 
should  my  lirrd  Fashion  permit  the  Frenchman  and  Yan- 
kee to  wear  whole  suits  of  white  linen,  and  condemn  us  to 
black  cloth  ? Nothing  can  be  neater  or  prettier,  as  mod- 
ern dress  goes,  than  the  white  coat,  waistcoat,  et  cetera 
with  a straw  hat  and  a bright  blue  tie;  but  it  is  some- 
thing to  say  against  it,  that  London  smoke  would  necessi- 
tate a clean  suit  per  diem,  which  would  materially  aug- 
ment the  washing  expenditure  of  our  metropolitan  Beaux 
Tibbses.  The  nearest  approach  we  are  allowed  to  make 
to  a sensible  costume,  on  days  when  we  should  like  to  fol- 
low Sidney  Smith’s  advice,  by  the  removal  of  our  flesh 
and  sitting  in  our  skeletons,  is  that  of  light  thin  tweedvS, 
but  even  these  are  not  countenanced  in  St.  James’  and  the 
Park,  and  we  must  be  content  to  take  refuge  in  a white 
waistcoat  and  the  thinnest  possible  material  for  our  frock- 
coat.  On  the  other  hand,  as  our  winters  are  never  verv 
severe,  we  have  only  to  choose  thicker  tweeds  of  a darkei 
color  for  that  season,  and  the  wrapper  or  great  coat  Ihcs 
becomes  not  nearly  so  important  an  article  as  the  indii! 
pensable  umbrella.  In  this  country,  therefore,  as  presei). 
fashions  require,  appropriateness  to  the  season  will  bd 
easily  acquired  by  a change  of  material  and  c^do^  aatlie: 
than  of  form,  in  our  apparel. 


APPROPRIATENESS  TO  OCCASIONS. 


151 


Not  £0  the  distinction  to  be  made  according  to  Size.  Aa 
a rule,  tall  men  require  long  clothes — some  few  perhaps 
even  in  the  nurse’s  sense  of  those  words — ana  short  men 
short  clothes.  On  the  other  hand,  Falstaflf  should  be wr,  re 
r:f  Jenny  Wren  coats  and  alfect  ample  wrappers,  ^hiie 
lYter  Schemihl,  and  the  whole  race  of  thin  men,  must 
eschew  looseness  as  much  in  their  garments  as  their  morals 
Lastly  we  come  to  what  is  appropriate  to  different  occa< 
sions,  and  as  this  is  an  important  subject,  I shall  treat  of 
it  separately.  For  the  present  it  is  sufficient  to  point  out 
chat  while  every  man  should  avoid  not  only  extravagance, 
but  even  brilliance  of  dress  on  ordinary  occasions,  there 
dre  some  on  which  he  may  and  ought  to  pay  more  atten- 
cion  to  his  toilet,  and  attempt  to  look  gay.  Of  course,  the 
evenings  are  not  here  meant.  For  evening  dress  there  is 
d fixed  rule,  from  which  we  can  depart  only  to  be  foppish 
or  vulgar ; but  in  morning  dress  there  is  greater  liberty, 
and  when  we  undertake  to  mingle  with  those  who  are  as- 
sembled avowedly  for  gaiety,  we  should  not  make  ourselves 
remarkable  by  the  dinginess  of  our  dress.  Such  occasions 
are  open  air  entertainments, ^5,  flower-shows,  archery- 
meetings,  matimes^  and  id  genus  omne.  where  much  of 
the  pleasure  to  be  derived  depends  on  the  general  effect  on 
the  enjoyers,  and  where,  if  we  cannot  pump  up  a look  of 
mirth,  we  should  at  least,  if  we  go  at  all,  wear  the  sem- 
blance of  it  in  oui  dress.  I have  a worthy  little  friend, 
who,  I believe,  is  as  well-disposed  to  his  kind  as  Lord 
Shaftesbury  himself,  but  who,  for  some  reason,  perliaps  a 
twinge  of  philosophy  about  him,  frequa’^ts  the  gaj  meet- 
ings to  which  he  is  asked  in  an  old  coat  and  a wide-awake. 
Some  people  take  him  for  a wit,  but  he  soon  shows  thaJ 
he  d^;es  not  aspire  to  that  character ; others  for  a philoso- 


l52 


DRESS. 


pher,  but  he  is  too  gcod-iuaimcred  for  that ; otliers  pool 
man ! pronounce  him  a cvnic,  and  all  are  agreed  that 
whatever  he  may  be.  he  looks  out  of  place  and  spoik 
general  effect.  I believe  in  my  lieart  that  he  is  the  mild 
er.l  of  men,  but  will  not  take  the  trouble  to  dress  more 
than  once  a day.  At  any  rate,  he  has  a character  for  ec 
centrieity,  which,  I am  sure,  is  precisely  what  he  would 
wish  to  avoid.  That  character  is  a most  delightful  one  foi 
a bachelor  and  it  is  generally  Coelebs  who  holds  it,  for  it 
has  been  proved  by  statistics  that  there  are  four  single  to 
one  married  man  among  the  inhabitants  of  our  mad-houses  ; 
but  eccentricity  yields  a reputation  which  requires  some- 
thing to  uphold  it,  and  even  in  Diogenes  of  the  Tub  it  was 
extremely  bad  taste  to  force  himself  into  Plato's  evening 
party  without  sandals,  and  nothing  but  a dirty  tunic  on 
him. 

Another  requisite  in  dress  is  its  simplicity,  with  which 
I may  couple  harmony  of  color.  This  simplicity  is  the 
only  distinction  which  a man  of  taste  should  aspire  to  in 
the  matter  of  dress,  but  a simplicity  in  appearance  must 
proceed  from  a nicety  in  reality.  One  should  not  be 
simply  ill-dressed,  but  simply-well  dressed.  Lord  Castle- 
reagh  would  never  have  been  pronounced  the  most  distin- 
guished man  in  the  gay  court  of  Vienna,  because  he  wore 
no  orders  or  ribbons  among  hundreds  decorated  with  a pro- 
fusion of  those  vanities,  but  because  besides  this  he  wa? 
iressed  with  taste.  The  charm  of  Brummell’s  dress  wm 
rts  simplicity;  yet  it  cost  him  as  much  thought,  time,-  and 
2are,  as  the  portfolio  of  a minister.  The  rules  of  sim- 
plicity, therefore,  are  the  rules  of  taste  All  extravagance, 
all  splendor,  and  all  profusion,  must  be  avoided.  The  colors 
In  the  first  place,  must  harmonize  both  with  our  complexior 


JEWELRY. 


m 


And  with  one  another ; perhaps  most  of  all  with  the  coloi 
of  cur  hair.  All  bright  colors  should  be  avoided,  such  as 
red,  yellow,  sky-blue,  and  bright  green.  Perhaps  orly  a 
successful  Australian  gold  digger  would  think  of  choosing 
such  colors  for  his  coat,  waistcoat,  or  trousers  ; but  there 
arc  hundreds  of  young  men  who  might  select  them  foi 
their  gloves  and  neck-ties.  The  deeper  colors  are,  some 
how  or  other,  more  manly,  and  are  certainly  less  striking 
Tlie  same  simplicity  should  be  studied  in  the  avoidance  of 
ornamentation.  A few  years  ago  it  was  the  fashion  tc 
trim  the  evening  waistcoat  with  a border  of  gold  lace 
This  is  an  example  of  fashions  always  to  be  rebelled  against. 
Then,  too,  extravagance  in  the  form  of  our  dress  is  a sin 
against  taste.  I remember  that  long  ribbons  took  the 
place  of  neck-ties  some  years  ago.  At  an  Oxford  com- 
memoration, two  friends  of  mine  determined  to  cut  a figure 
in  this  matter,  having  little  else  to  distinguish  them.  The 
one  wore  two  yards  of  bright  pink ; the  other  the  same 
quantity  of  bright  blue  ribbon  round  their  necks.  I have 
reason  to  believe  they  think  now  that  they  both  looked  su- 
perbly ridiculous.  In  the  same  way,  if  the  trousers  are 
worn  wide,  we  should  not  wear  them  as  loose  as  a Turk’s; 
5r  if  the  sleeves  are  to  be  open,  we  should  not  rival  tl'e 
(adies  in  this  matter.  And  so  on  through  a hundred  de- 
tails, generally  remembering  that  to  exaggerate  a fashion 
IS  to  assume  a character,  and  therefore  vulgar.  The  wear- 
ing of  jewelry  comes  under  this  head.  Jewels  are  an  or- 
aarnent  to  women,  but  a blemish  to  men.  They  bespeah 
wtlier  effeminacy  oi  a love  of  display.  The  hand  of  a man 
is  honored  in  working,  for  labor  is  his  mission;  and  the 
hand  that  wears  its  riches  on  its  fingers,  has  rarely  woiked 
honestly  to  win  them.  The  best  jewel  a man  can  wear  is 
7* 


154 


DRESS. 


his  honor.  Let  that  be  bright  and  shining,  well  set  in  pru 
dence,  and  all  others  must  darken  before  it.  But  as  we 
are  savages,  and  must  have  some  silly  trickery  to  hang 
about  us,  a little,  but  very  little  concession  may  be  made 
to  our  taste  in  this  respect.  I am  quite  serious  when  I 
disadvise  you  from  the  use  of  nose-rings,  gold  anklets,  and 
hat-bands  studded  with  jewels ; for  ,vhen  I see  an  incred* 
ulous  young  man  of  the  nineteenth  century,  dangling  fi  om 
his  watch-chain  a dozen  silly  “charms”  (often  the  only 
ones  he  possesses),  which  have  no  other  use  than  to  give 

fair  coquette  a legitimate  subject  on  which  to  approach 
to  closer  intimacy,  and  which  are  revived  from  the  lowest 
6uperstitions  of  dark  ages,  and  sometimes  darker  races,  1 
Aia  quite  justified  in  believing  that  some  South  African 
chieftain,  sufficiently  rich  to  cut  a dash  in  Lond6n,  might 
introduce  with  success  the  most  peculiar  fashions  of  his 
own  country.  However  this  may  be,  there  are  already 
sufficient  extravagances  prevalent  among  our  young  men 
to  attack. 

The  man  of  good  taste  will  wear  as  little  jewelry  as:- 
possible.  One  handsome  signet-ring  on  the  little  finger 
of  the  left  hand,  a scarf-pin  which  is  neither  large  nor 
shoAvy  nor  too  intricate  in  its  design,  and  a light,  rather 
thin  watch-guard  with  a cross-bar,  are  all  that  he  ought  to 
wear.  But  if  he  aspires  to  more  than  this,  he  should  ob- 
serve the  following  rules: — 

1.  Let  everything  be  real  and  good.  False  jewelry  is 
not  only  a practical  lie,  but  an  absolute  vulgarity,  since 
its  use  arises  from  an  attempt  to  appear  richer  or  grander 
than  it's  wearer  is. 

2.  Let  it  be  simple.  Elaborate  studs,  waistcoat-buttona 
»nd  wrist  links,  are  all  abominable.  The  last  particularlj 


jewelry. 


155 


^ should  bo  as  plain  as  possible,  consisting  of  plain  gold 
ovals,  with  at  most  the  crest  engraved  upon  them.  Dia- 
mmds  and  brilliants  are  quite  unsuitable  to  men,  whose 
jeweliy  should  never  be  conspicuous.  If  you  happen  tc 
possess  a single  diamond  of  great  value  you  may  weai  ii 
)r  great  occasions  as  a ring,  but  no  more  than  one  ring 
ih  juld  ever  be  worn  by  a gentleman. 

3.  Let  it  be  distinguished  rather  by  its  curiosity  than 
'ts  brilliance.  An  antique  or  bit  of  old  jewelry  possesses 
DQore  interest,  particularly  if  you  are  able  to  tell  its  his- 
tory, than  the  most  splendid  production  of  the  goldsmith’s 
jhop 

4.  Let  it  harmonize  with  the  colors  of  your  dress. 

5.  Let  it  have  some  use.  Men  should  never,  like  women 
wear  jewels  for  mere  ornament,  whatever  may  be  the 
fashion  of  Hungarian  noblemen,  and  deposed  Indian  rajahs 
with  jackets  covered  with  fubies. 

The  precious  stones  are  reserved  for  ladies,  and  even 
our  scarf-pins  are  more  suitable  without  them.  English 
taste  has  also  the  superiority  over  that  of  the  Continent  in 
condemning  the  wearing  of  orders,  clasps,  and  ribbons, 
except  at  court  or  on -official  occasions.  If  these  are  really 
given  for  merit,  they  will  add  nothing  to  our  fame ; if,  as 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  they  are  bestowed  merely  because 
the  recipient  has  done  his  duty,  they  may  impose  on  fools, 
but  will,  if  anything,  provoke  only' awkward  inquiries  from 
icnsible  men.  If  it  be  permitted  to  flaunt  our  bravery  oi 
>ur  learning  on  the  coat-collar,  as  much  as  to  cry,  like 
little  Jack  Horner,  See  what  a good  boy  am  I !”  I 
cannot  for  my  part,  discover  why  a curate  should  not  carry 
his  silver  teapot  about  with  him,  or  Mr.  Morison  enlarge 
his  phylacteries  with  a selection  from  the  one  -million  casef 
almost  miraculous  cures.” 


156 


DRESS. 


The  dress  that  is  both  appropriate  and  simple  can  ne?ci 
offeud,  nor  render  its  wearer  conspicuous,  though  it  may 
distinguish  him  for  his  good  taste.  But  it  will  net 
pleasing  unless  clean  and  fresh.  We  cannot  quarrel  with 
a poor  gentleman’s  thread-bare  coat,  if  his  linen  be  pure 
and  we  see  that  he  has  never  attempted  to  dress  beyond 
Lis  means  or  unsuitably  to  his  station.  But  the  sight  oi 
decayed  gentility  and  dilapidated  fashion  may  call  forth 
our  pity,  and  at  the  same  time  prompt  a moral : You 
have  evidently  sunken,”  we  say  to  ourselves  ; but  whose 
fault  Avas  it  ? Am  I not  led  to  suppose  that  the  extrava- 
gance which  you  evidently  once  revelled  in  has  brought 
you  to  what  I now  see  you?”  While  freshness  is  essen- 
tial to  being  well-dressed,  it  Avill  be  a consolation  to  those 
who  cannot  afford  a heavy  tailor’s  bill,  to  reflect  that  a 
visible  newness  in  one’s  clothes  is  as  bad  as  patches  and 
darns,  and  to  remember  that  there  have  been  celebrated 
dressers  who  Avould  never  put  on  a new  coat  till  it  had 
been  worn  two  or  three  times  by  their  valets.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  is  no  excuse — except  at  Donnybrook — • 
for  untidiness,  holes  in  the  boots,  a broken  hat,  torn 
gloves,  and  so  on.  Indeed,  it  is  better  to  wear  no  gloves 
at  all  than  a pair  full  of  holes.  There  is  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of  in  bare  hands  if  they  are  clean,  and  the  poor 
can  still  afford  to  have  their  shirts  and  shoes  mended, 
and  their  hats  ironed.  It  is  certainly  better  to  show  signs 
of  neatness  than  the  reverse,  and  you  need  sooner  b€ 
s^hamed  of  a hole  than  a darn. 

Of  personal  cleanliness  I have  spoken  at  such  lengtt 
that  little  need  be  said  on  that  of  the  clothes.  If  you  are 
economical  with  your  tailor,  you  can  be  extravagant  witL 
your  laundress.  The  beaux  of  forty  years  back  put  or 


LINEN. 


157 


three  sLirts  a day,  but  except  in  hot  weather  one  i&  suffi- 
cient. Of  course,  if  you  change  your  dress *in  the  even- 
ing you  must  change  your  shirt  too.  There  has  been  a 
great  outcry  against  colored  flannel  shirts  in  the  place  ol 
linon,  and  the  man  who  can  wear  one  for  three  days  ig 
^0(,ked  on  as  little  better  than  St.  Simeon  Stylites.  I 
should  like  to  know  how  often  the  advocates  of  linen 
change  their  o^m  under-flannel,  and  whether  the  same 
rule  does  not  apply  to  what  is  seen  as  to  what  is  con- 
cealed. But  while  the  flannel  is  perhaps  healthier  as  ab- 
sorbing the  moisture  more  rapidly,  the  linen  has  the  ad- 
vantage of  looking  cleaner,  and  may  therefore  be  prefer- 
red. As  to  economy,  if  the  flannel  costs  less  to  wash,  ix 
also  wears  out  sooner;  but,  be  this  as  it  may,  a man’s 
wardrobe  is  not  complete  without  half  a dozen  or  so  of 
these  shirts,  which  he  will  find  most  useful,  and  ten  times 
more  comfortable  than  linen  in  long  excursions,  or  when 
exertion  will  be  required.  Flannel,  too,  has  the  advan- 
tage  of  being  warm  in  winter  and  cool  in  summer,  for, 
being  a non-conductor,  but  a retainer  of  heat,  it  protects 
the  body  from  the  sun,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  shields 
it  from  the  cold.  But  the  best  shirt  of  all,  particularly 
in  winter,  is  that  which  wily  monks  and  hermits  pre- 
tended to  wear  for  a penance,  well  knowing  that  they 
could  have  no  garment  cooler,  more  comfortable,  or  more 
healthy.  I mean,  of  course,  the  rough  hair-shirt.  Like 
flannel,  it  is  a non-conductor  of  heat ; but  then,  too,  it 
lets  the  part  of  a sham-pooer,  and  with  its  perpetual  fric- 
tion soothes  the  surface  of  the  skin,  and  prevents  the  cir  - 
culatiDn  from  being  arrested  at  any  one  point  of  the  body. 
Though  I doubt  if  any  of  my  readers  will  take  a hini 
from  the  wisdom  of  the  merry  anchoritea,  they  will  per 


158 


DRESS. 


haps  alluw  me  to  suggest  that  the  next  best  thing  to  vyeai 
next  the  ':kiiT  is  flanrie_  and  that  too  of  the  coaisest  do* 
Bcription. 

Quantity  is  better  than  quality  in  linen.  Neverthcleva 
it  should  be  fine  and  tvell  spun.  The  loose  cuff,  which  W8 
Ixirrowed  from  the  French  some  four  years  ago,  is  a giea** 
improvement  on  the  old  tight  wTist-band,  and,  indeed,  it 
must  be  borne  in  mind  that  anything  which  binds  any  part 
of  the  body  tightly  impedes  the  circulation,  and  is  there- 
fore unhealthy  as  well  as  ungraceful.  Who  more  hideous 
and  unnatural  than  an  officer  of  the  Russian  or  Austrian 
army — compelled  to  reduce  his  waist  to  a certain  size — 
unless  it  be  a dancing-master  in  stays  ? At  Munich,  I re- 
member there  was  a somewhat  corpulent  major  of  the 
Guards  who,  it  was  said,  took  two  men  to  buckle  his  belt 
in  the  morning,  and  was  unable  to  speak  for  about  an 
hour  after  the  operation.  His  face,  of  course,  was  of  a 
most  unsightly  crimson. 

The  necessity  for  a large  stock  of  linen  depends  on  a 
rule  far  better  than  Brummell’s,  of  three  shirts  a day, 
»fiz. : — 

Change  your  linen  whenever  it  is  at  all  dirty. 

This  is  the  best  guide  with  regard  to  collars,  socks, 
pocket-handkerchiefs,  -and  our  under  garments.  No  rule 
ran  be  laid  down  for  the  number  we  should  wear  per  week^ 
(or  everything  depends  on  circumstances.  Thus  in  the 
count! 3"  all  our  linen  remains  longer  clean  than  in  London  ; 
n dirty,  wet,  or  dusty  weather,  our  socks  get  soon  dir^j 
nd  must  be  changed  ; or,  if  we  have  a cold,  to  say  nothing 
Df  the  possible  but  not  probable  case  of  tear-shedding  on 
the  departure  of  friends,  or  of  sensitive  young  ladies  ovei 
a Crimean  engagement,  we  shall  want  more  than  one 


fiS’miATE  OF  A WAKDROBB. 


pooliet  liaiidkercbief  per  diem.  In  fact,  the  last  artfcle  ol 
modern  civilization  is  put  to  so  many  uses,  is  so  much  dis- 
played, and  liable  to  be  called  into  action  on  so  many  va^ 
cious  engagements,  that  we  should  always  have  a clear 
me  in  our  pockets.  Who  knows  when  it  may  not  servf 
as  in  good  stead  ? Who  can  tell  how  often  the  corner  af 
the  delicate  cambric  will  have  to  represent  a tear  which, 
iij^e  diflScult  passages  in  novels,  is  left  to  the  imagina- 
tion.’^ Can  a man  of  any  fueling  call  on  a disconsolate 
widovy^,  for  instance,  and  listen  to  her  woes,  without  at 
least  pulling  out  that  expressive  appendage  ? Can  any  one 
believe  in  our  sympathy  if  the  article  in  question  is  a dirty 
Dne  ? There  are  some  people  who,  like  the  clouds,  only 
exist  to  weep ; and  King  Solomon,  though  not  one  of 
them,  has  given  them  great  encouragement  in  speaking  of 
the  house  of  mourning.  We  are  bound  to  weep  with  them, 
and  we  are  bound  to  weep  elegantly. 

A man  whose  dress  is  neat,  clean,  simple,  and  appro- 
priate, will  pass  muster  anywhere.  But  he  cannot  always 
wear  the  same  clothes,  like  Werther.  The  late  Mr.  Fopn- 
tayn  Wilson,  notorious  for  his  wealth  and  stinginess, 
thought  otherwise.  When  Napoleon  the  First  was  threat- 
ening England,  and  there  was  the  same  mania  for  volunteer 
corps  as  now,  he  bought  up  an  immense  quantity  of  grey 
cloth,  in  the  hope  that  the  government  would  give  a good 
price  for  it  later.  He  was  disappointed,  and  to  make  use 
rf  his  purchase,  determined  to  wear  nothing  else  himself 
for  the  rest  of  his  life.  Future  biographers  may  perhaps 
invent  a similar  story,  to  account  for  Lord  Brougham's 
partial  ty  to  checked  trousers. 

A well-dressed  man  does  not  require  so  much  an  exten- 
sive as  a varied  wardrobe  He  wants  a diflFerent  costume 


160 


DKESS. 


for  ovcry  seasoi  and  every  occasion  ; but  if  what  he  selecU 
is  simple  rather  than  striking,  he  may  appear  in  the  same 
clothes  as  often  as  he  likes,  as  long  as  they  are  fresh  and 
appropriate  to  the  season  and  the  object.  There  are  foui 
kinds  of  coats  which  he  must  have  : a morning-coat,  a 
frock-coat,  a dress-coat,  and  an  over-coat.  An  economical 
man  may  do  well  with  four  of  the  first,  and  one  of  each 
of  the  others  per  annum.  George  the  Fourth’s  wardrobe 
sold  for  X15,000,  and  a single  cloak  brought  no  less  than 
£800.  But  George  was  a king  and  a beau,  and  in  debt 
^0  his  tailor.  The  dress  of  an  English  gentleman  in  the 
present  day  should  not  cost  him  more  than  the  tenth  part 
of  his  income  on  an  average.  But  as  fortunes  vary  more 
than  position,  if  hi^  income  is  large  it  will  take  a much 
smaller  proportion,  if  small  a larger  one.  But  generally 
speaking,  a man  with  £300  a year  should  not  devote  more 
than  £30  to  his  outw^ard  man.  The  seven  coats  in  ques- 
tion will  cost  about  £18.  Six  pairs  of  morning,  and  one 
jf  evening  trousers,  will  cost  £9.  Four  morning  waist- 
coats, and  one  for  evening,  make  another  £4.  T/loves, 
linen,  hats,  scarves  and  neck-ties,  about  £10,  and  the  im- 
portant item  of  boots,  at  least  £5  more.  This,  1 take  it, 
is  a sufficient  wardrobe  for  a w^ell-dressed  man  tvho  ‘.mploji 
a moderate  tailor,  and  the  wffiole  is  under  £50.  F is  quite 
possible  tc  dress  decently  for  half  that  sum,  and  men  of 
small  means  should  be  content  to  do  so.  If  a m^n,  how- 
ever, mixes  in  society,  and  I write  for  those  who  do  so, 
there  are  some  things  which  are  indispensable  to  oven 
proper  dressing,  and  every  occasion  will  have  its  pioper 
attire. 

In  his  own  house,  then,  and  in  the  morning,  there  ig 
no  rev\son  why  he  should  not  wear  out  his  old  clothes, 


ST*iLE  IN  MORN  NG  DRESS, 


161 


Borne  men  take  to  the  delightful  ease  of  a Iresssing-gown 
and  slippers;  and  if  bachelors,  they  do  well.  If  family  ineu. 
it  will  probably  depend  on  whether  the  lady  or  the  gentlo 
man  wears  the  pantaloons.  The  best  walking- dress  for  a 
non-professional  men  is  a suit  of  tweed  of  the  same  color 
ordinary  boots,  gloves  not  too  dark  for  the  coat,  a scarf 
with  a pin  in  winter,  or  a small  tie  of  one  color  in  sum- 
mer,  a respectable  black  hat,  and  a cane.  The  last 
item  is  perhaps  the  most  important,  and  though  its  use 
varies  with  fashion,  I confess  I am  sorry  when  I see  it  go 
out.  The  Englishman  does  not  gesticulate  when  talking, 
and  in  consequence  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  hands.  To 
put  them  in  his  pockets  is  the  natural  action,  but  this  gives 
an  appearance  of  lounging  insouciance,  or  impudent  de- 
termination, which  becomes  very  few  men,  if  any.  The 
best  substitute  for  a walking-stick  is  an  umbrella,  not  a 
parasol  unless  it  be  given  you  by  a lady  to  carry.  The 
main  point  of  the  walking-dress  is  the  harmony  of  colors 
but  this  should  not  be  carried  to  the  extent  of  M.  de  Malt 
zan,  who  some  years  ago  made  a bet  to  wear  nothing  but 
pink  at  Baden-Baden  for  a whole  year,  and  had  boots  and 
gloves  of  the  same  lively  hue.  He  won  his  wager,  but 
also  the  soubriquet  of  “ Le  Diable  enflamme.^’  The  walk- 
ing dress  should  vary  according  to  the  place  and  hour.  In 
whe  country  or  at  the  sea-side  a straw  hat  or  wide-awake 
may  take  the  place  of  the  bea\'er,  and  the  nuisance  of 
gloves  be  even  dispensed  with  in  the  former.  But  in  Lon- 
don, where  a man  is  supposed  to  make  visits  as  well  as 
<ounge  in  the  Bark,  the  frock  coat  of  very  dark  blue  or 
black,  or  a black  cloth  cut-away,  the  white  waistcoat,  and 
lavender  gloves,  are  almost  indispensable.  Very  thin 
boots  should  be  avoided  at  all  times  and  whatever  clothe? 


1G2 


DRESS. 


3ne  wears  they  should  be  well  brushed.  The  suirt, 
whether  seen  or  not.  should  be  quite  plain.  The  shirt  col 
lar  should  never  have  a color  on  it,  but  it  may  be  stiff  oi 
turned  down  according  as  the  wearer  is  Byronically  oi 
Brummellically  disposed.  The  scarf,  if  simple  and  of  mod* 
est  colors,  is  perhaps  the  best  thing  we  can  wear  round  the 
neck  ; but  if  a neck- tie  is  preferred  it  should  not  be  too 
long,  nor  tied  in  too  stiff  and  studied  a manner.  Brum- 
mell  made  his  reputation  by  the  knot  of  his  cravat,  and 
even  in  so  tiny  a trifle  a man  may  show  his  taste  or  his 
want  of  it.  The  cane  should  be  extremely  simple,  a mere 
stick  in  fact,  with  no  gold  head,  and  yet  for  the  town  not 
rough,  thick,  or  clumsy  ; nor  of  the  style  beloved  of  Cor- 
poral Shanks  of  the  Fusileers.  The  frock-coat  should  be 
ample  and  loose,  and  a tall  well-built  man  may  throw  it 
back.  At  any  rate,  it  should  never  be  buttoned  up. 
Crreat-coats  are  so  little  worn  in  this  country  that  I need 
say  little  about  them.  If  worn  at  all  they  should  be  but 
toned  up,  of  a dark  color,  not  quite  black,  longer  than  the 
frock  coat,  but  never  long  enough  to  reach  the  ankles. 
If  you  have  visits  to  make  you  should  do  away  with  the 
great-coat,  if  the  weather  allows  you  to  do  so.  On  the 
Continent  it  is  alw^ays  removed  before  entering  a drawing- 
room, but  not  so  in  England.  The  frock-coat,  or  black 
cut-away,  with  a white  waistcoat  in  summer,  is  the  best 
dress  for  making  calls  in. 

It  is  certainly  very  hard  that  a man  may  not  wear  what 
he  likes,  and  that  if  I have  a fancy  to  grandeur,  and  s. 
fine  pair  of  shoulders,  I may  not  be  allowed  to  strut  along 
Pall  Mall  in  a Roman  toga  ; or  having  lost  a seventeenth 
'icusin  removed,  am  forbidden  by  the  laws — at  least  those 
of  Policeman  Z 500,  who  most  ^certainly  would  insist  ok 


STYLE  Ih  MORNING  DRESS 


163 


my  ‘‘moving  on^’ — to  array  myself  in  a paletot  of  sack 
cloth,  with  a unique  head-dress  of  well-sifted  cinders  ; but 
BO  It  is,  and  if  my  relatives  did  not  commit  me  to  the 
walls  of  some  delightful  suburban  “ Retreat,’'  patronized 
l)y  Doctor  Conolly,  and  make  the  toga  an  excuse  for  ap 
propriating  my  small  income, — even  if  the  small  boy 
would  let  me  alone,  and  I could  walk  without  a band  of 
self-appointed  and  vociferous  retainers,  there  would  still 
be  that  terrible  monosyllable,  snob,  to  cure  me  in  a mo- 
ment of  a weakness  for  classical  attire.  I will  not  en- 
lighten you  as  to  the  amount  of  horror  I feel  at  the  mere 
mention  of  that  title  ; I will  only  say  that  those  who  do 
not  care  whether  the  title  is  given  them  or  not,  can  afford 
to  dress  in  any  style  they  like.  Those  who  do,  on  the 
^)ther  hand,  must  avoid  certain  articles  of  attire  which  are 
either  obsolete  or  peculiar  to  a class.  Thus  unless  a man 
is  really  a groom,  why  should  he  aspire  to  be  like 
one  ? Why  should  he  compress  his  lower  limbs  into  the 
very  tightest  of  garments,  made  for  a man  of  seven  feet 
high,  and  worn  by  one  of  five,  necessitating  in  consequence 
a peculiar  wrinkling  from  the  foot  to  the  knee,  which 
seems  to  find  immense  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  stable-boy 
Unless  you  are  a prize-fighter,  again,  why  should  you  pa- 
tronize a neck-tie  of  Waterloo  blue  with  white  spots  on  it, 
commonly  known  as  the  “bird’s  eye”  pattern,  and  much 
affected  by  candidates  for  the  champion’s  belt.  If  your 
lot  has  not  been  cast  behind  the  counter  of  a haberdasher 
can  there  be  any  obvious  reason  why  you  should  cloth 
your  nether  man  in  a stuff  of  the  largest  possible  check 
and  the  most  vivid  colors  ? Or  if  fortune  did  not  select 
you  for  a “ light”  in  some  sect,  or  at  any  rate  for  the  po- 
aition  of  a small  tradesman,  can  you  on  any  piausibli 


164 


DRESS. 


grounds  defena  the  fact  that  you  are  seen  in  the  morning 
in  a swallow-tail  black  cloth  coat,  and  a black  satin  tief 
Nay,  if  like  Mr.  Fountayn  Wilson,  you  have  been  sj)ecu‘ 
lating  in  cloth,  black  instead  of  grey,  and  had  twenty 
thousand  yards  on  your  hands,  you  must  on  no  considera^ 
tioii  put  any  of  them  on  your  legs  before  a certain  houi 
of  the  evening.  Of  course  you  may,  if  you  please,-  wear 
jockey  trousers,  broad  patterns,  bird’s-eye  handkerchiefs, 
tail-coats,  and  black  cloth,  at  any  hour  of  the  day,  and  in 
mj  portion  of  the  civilized  world,  but  it  will  be  under 
pain  and  penalty  of  being  dubbed  by  that,  terrible  mono- 
syllable, which  nothing  could  induce  me  to  repeat.  No 
it  must  be  a shooting  coat  of  any  cut  or  color,  or  a frock- 
coat  that  is  dark,  or  in  winter  an  over-coat,  but  it  may 
ne\er  be  a tail-coat,  and  so  on  with  the  rest.  You  may 
dress  like  a bargee,  in  shorts  and  grey  stockings,  like  a 
chimney-sweep  in  the  deepest  mourning,  like  a coster- 
monger, a coalheaver,  a shoeblack,  or  as  M.  de  Maltzan 
did,  like  Sa  Majeste  d’en  bas,”  and  you  will  either  b( 
taken  for  a bargee,  chimney-sweep,  costermonger,  coal- 
heaver,  shoeblack,  or  demon,  or  you  will  be  set  down  as*, 
eccentric  ; but  if,  while  not  discarding  your  ordinary  at- 
tire, you  adopt  some  portion  peculiar  to  a class  below  you, 
you  will,  I regret  to  say,  be,  certainly  most  uncharitably 
entitled  only  a snob. 

So  much  for  morning  dress. 

It  is  simple  nonsense  to  talk  of  modern  civilization,  an  J 
rejoice  that  the  cruelties  of  the  dark  ages  can  never  be 
perpetrated  in  these  days  and  this  country.  I maintaif 
that  they  are  perpetrated  freely,  generally,  daily,  with 
the  consent  of  the  wretched  victim  himself,  in  the  com- 
pulsion to  wear  evening  clothes  Is  there  anything  at 


I.IMB-CO\  ERS. 


165 


TRCe  more  comfortless  or  more  hideous  ? Let  us  begm 
with  what  the  delicate  Americans  call  limb- covers,  which 
we  are  told  were  the  invention  of  the  Gauls,  but  I am  in^ 
dined  to  think,  of  a much  worse  race,  for  it  is  clearly  an 
anachronism  to  ascribe  the  discovery  to  a Venetian  called 
Piantaleone,  and  it  can  only  have  been  Inquisitors  or  de- 
mons who  inflicted  this  scourge  on  the  race  of  man,  and 
his  ninth-parts,  the  tailors,  for  I take  it  that  both  are 
equally  bothered  by  the  tight  pantaloon.  Let  us  pause 
awhile  over  this  unsightly  garment,  and  console  ourselves 
vfith  the  reflection  that  as  every  country,  and  almosi  every 
fear,  has  a different  fashion  in  its  make  of  it,  we  may  at 
(ast  be  emancipated  from  it  altogether,  or  at  least  be  able 
<o  wear  it  d la  Turqiie. 

Whenever  I call  at  a great  house,  which,  as  I am  a 
writer  on  etiquette,  must — of  course — be  very  often,  1 
^jonfess  to  feeling  a most  trying  insignificance  in  the  pre* 
dence  of  the  splendid  Mercury  who  ushers  me  in.  Why 
<s  this  ? Neither  physically,  mentally,  by  position,  educa- 
tion, nor  genius,  am  I his  inferior,  and  yet  I shrink  before 
him.  On  the  other  hand,  if  it  is  a butler  in  plain  clothes 
who  admits  me,  like  Bob  Acres,  I feel  all  my  courage 
ooze  ba.ck  again.  I gave  my  nights,  long  and  sleepless,  to 
the  consideration  of  this  problem,  and  ha\''  now  arrived 
at  a satisfactory  explanation.  It  is  not  the  tall  figure  and 
magnificent  whiskers ; it  is  not  the  gold  lace  and  rich  red 
plush;  it  is  not  the  majestically  indifferent  air  of  John 
Thomas  that  appals  me ; it  is  the  consciousness  that  my 
legs — my,  as  a man,  most  important  and  distinctive  limbs 
— are  in  an  inferior  position  to  his.  As  an  artist,  I can- 
not but  recognize  the  superior  beauty  of  his  figure.  And 
5[>r  this  disgrace  this  ignominy  I suffer,  I have  to  thant 


166 


DRESS. 


the  Celts  with  their  braccce^  and  tae  bad  taste  of  some 
calSess  monarch  or  leader  of  fashion — probably  a German 
for  all  (jrcrmans  have  bad  taste  and  bad  — who  revived 

this  odiouSj  long  ob5)lete  instrument  of  personal  torture 
It  is  nothing  less,  believe  me.  Independent  of  a loss  of 
tersonal  beauty,  there  is  the  unhealthiness  of  a tight  gar 
nent  clinging  to  the  very  portion  which  we  exercise  most^ 
and  which  most  demands  a free  circulation.  It  is  true, 
that  the  old-fashioned  breeches,  if  too  tightly  fastened 
round  the  knee,  produced  the  same  effect,  and  Maria 
Macklin,  a celebrated  actress  of  male  characters,  almost 
lost  her  leg  by  vanity  in  the  matter  of  Honi  soit  qui 
mal  y pense;”  but,  after  all,  what  is  not  a cool  stocking 
to  a hot  bag  of  thick  stuff  round  the  leg ; how  far  prefe- 
rable the  freedom  of  trunk-hose,  to  the  hardly  fought 
liberty  of  the  ‘‘peg-top’’  trousers.  But  it  is  not  all 
trousers  that  I rebel  against.  If  I might  wear  linen  ap- 
pendices in  summer,  and  fur  continuations  in  winter,  I 
would  not  groan,  but  it  is  the  evening  dress  that  inflicts 
on  the  man  who  likes  society  the  necessity  of  wearing  the 
same  trying  cloth  all  the  year  round,  so  that  under  Boreas 
he  catches  colds,  and  under  the  dog-star  he  melts.  They 
manage  these  things  better  abroad.  In  America  a man 
may  go  to  a ball  in  white  ducks.  In  France  he  has  the 
option  of  light  grey.  But  in  England  we  are  doomed  for 
ever  to  buckskin.  This  unmentionable,  but  most  necessa- 
ry disguise  of  the  human  form  divine,”  is  one  that 
never  varies  in  this  country  and  therefore  I must  lay  down 
the  rule : — 

For  all  evening  wear — black  cloth  trousers* 

But  the  tortures  of  evening  dress  do  not  end  with  oui 
lower  limbs.  Of  all  the  iniquities  perpetrated  under  the 


E V 1 N (t — D RESS. 


16-; 


R ^igii  of  Terror,  none  has  lasted  so  long  as  that  the 
Btiaight-jacket,  which  w^as  palmed  off  on  the  people  as  8 
habit  de  compagnie.^’  If  it.  were  necessary  to  sing  & 
hymn  of  praise  to  Robespierre,  Marat,  and  Co.,  I wwld 
rather  take  the  guillotine  as  my  subject  to  extol  than  the 
fewallow  tail.  And  yet  we  endure  the  stiffness,  unsightli- 
ness, uncomfortableness,  and  want  of  grace  of  the  latter, 
with  more  resignation  than  that  with  which  Charlotte 
Corday  put  her  beautiful  neck  into  the  trou  d’enfer”  of 
the  former.  Fortunately  modern  republicanism  has  tri 
umphed  6ver  ancient  etiquette,  and  the  tail-coat  of  to-day 
is  looser  and  more  easy  than  it  was  twenty  years  ago.  I 
can  only  say,  let  us  never  strive  to  make  it  bearable,  till 
we  have  abolished  it.  Let  us  abjure  such  vulgarities  as 
silk  collars,  w^hite  silk  linings,  and  so  forth,  which  at- 
tempt to  beautify  this  monstrosity,  as  a hangman  might 
wreathe  his  gallows  with  roses.  The  plainer  the  manner 
in  which  you  wear  your  misery,  the  better. 

Then  again  the  black  w^aistcoat,  stiff,  tight,  and  com- 
ibrtless.  Fancy  Falstaff  in  a ball-dress  such  as  w^e  now 
wear.  No  amount  of  Embroidery,  gold-trimmings,  or 
jewel-buttons,  will  render  such  an  infliction  grateful  to 
the  mass.  The  best  plan  is  to  wear  thorough  mourning 
for  your  wretchedness.  In  France  and  America,  the  ( ooler 
white  w’aistcoat  is  admitted.  We  have  scouted  it,  and 
left  it  to  aldermen  and  shopkeepers.  Would  I were  an 
tlderman  or  a shopkeeper  in  the  middle  of  July,  when  I 
am  comfelled  to  dance  in  a full  attire  of  black  cloth, 
tiowevcr,  as  we  have  it,  let  us  make  the  best  of  it,  and  not 
parade  our  misery  by  hideous  ornamentation.  The  only 
evening  waistcoat  for  all  purposes  for  a man  of  taste  is  om 
of  simple  black  cloth,  with  the  simplest  possible  buttons 


168 


DRESS. 


These  three  items  never  vary  for  dinnei-paity,  niufiiib 
worry,  or  ball.  The  only  distinction  allowed  is  in  th^ 
nock-tie.  For  dinner,  the  opera,  and  balls,  this  must  be 
white,  and  the  smaller  the  better.  It  should  be,  too,  of 
wasnable  texture,  nyt  silk,  nor  netted,  nor  hanging  down 
Jior  of  any  foppish  production,  but  a simple  white  tu 
without  embroidery.  The  black  tie  is  only  admitted  foi 
evening  parties,  and  should  be  equally  simple.  The  shirt- 
front  which  figures  under  the  tie  should  be  plain,  with 
unpretending  small  plaits.  All  the  elaborations  which 
the  French  have  introduced  among  us  in  this  jlarticul^r, 
and  the  custom  of  wearing  pink  under  the  shirt,  are  an 
abomination  to  party-goers.  The  glove  must  be  v h te, 
not  yellow.  Recently,  indeed,  a fashion  has  sprung  up 
of  wearing  lavender  gloves  in  the  evening.  They  are 
economical,  and  as  all  economy  is  an  abomination,  must 
be  avoided.  Gloves  should  always  be  worn  at  a ball.  At 
a dinner-party  in  town  they  should  be  worn  on  entering 
the  room,  and  drawn  off  for  dinner.  While,  on  the  one 
hand,  we  must  avoid  the  awkwardness  of  a gallant  sea- 
captain  who,  wearing  no  gloves  at  a dance,  excused  him- 
self to  his  partner  by  saying;  Never  mind,  Miss.  I can 
wash  my  hands  when  I’ve  done  dancing,”  we  have  nc 
need  in  the  present  day  to  copy  the  Roman  gentleman 
mentioned  by  Athenaeus,  who  wore  gloves  at  dinner  that 
he  might  pick  his  meat  from  the  hot  dishes  more  rapidly 
than  tlie  bare-handed  guests  As  to  gloves  at  tea-parties 
and  so  forth,  we  are  generally  safer  with  than  without 
them.  If  it  is  quite  a small  party,  we  may  leave  them 
in  our  pocket,  and  in  the  country  they  are  scarcely  ex- 
pected to  be  worn  ; but  touch  noi>  a cat  but  with  s 
glove  you  are  always  safer  with  them. 


UKE3T,  UNDREST.  AND  MUCH  EREST.  16? 

Svx  60  in  the  matter  of  the  hat.  In  France  and  Ger 
rkstny  the  hat  is  brought  into  a ball-room  and  drawing 
room  und-jr  all  circumstances,  and  great  is  the  confusion 
arising  therefrom,  a man  having  every  chance  of  finding 
iiis  now  hat  exchanged  for  an  old  one  under  a seat,  i 
cure  Tvalked  home  from  a German  ball  as  bare-headed  avS 
a friar,  some  well-dressed  robber  having  not  only  ex- 
changed his  hat  with  mine,  but  to  prevent  detection  car- 
ried off  his  own  too.  I shall  not  easily  forget  the  con- 
sternation in  an  English  party  to  which  I went  soon  after 
<ny  return  from  the  Continent,  unconsciously  carrying  in 
my  hat,  and  the  host  could  not  restrain  some  small  fiice- 
cious  allusion  to  it,  when  I looked  for  it  under  the  table 
before  going  away.  A Gibus”  prevents  all  such  diffi- 
culties ; yet  as  a general  rule  in  England  the  hat  should 
be  left  outside. 

I must  not  quit  this  subject  without  assuring  myseli 
that  my  reader  know's  more  about  it  now  than  he  did  be- 
fore. In  fact  I have  taken  one  thing  for  granted,  viz., 
that  he  knows  wdiat  it  is  to  be  dressed,  and  wdiat  undress- 
ed. Of  course  I do  not  suppose  him  to  be  in  the  blissful 
state  of  ignorance  on  the  subject  once  enjoyed  by  our  first 
parents.  I use  the  words  dressed”  and  undressed” 
rather  in  the  sense  meant  by  a military  tailor,  or  a cook 
with  reference  to  a salad.  You  need  not  be  shocked.  I 
am  one  of  tliose  people  who  wear  spectacles  fo>*  fear  of 
seeing  anything  with  the  naked  eye.  I am  the  soul  of 
^nupulosity.  But  I am  wondering  whether  everybody 
arranges  his  wardrobe  as  our  ungrammatical  nurses  used 
to  do  ours,  under  the  heads  of  best,  second-best,  third- 
best,”  and  so  on,  and  knows  what  things  ought  to  be 
plaoed  under  each.  To  be  undressed”  is  to  be  dressed 
8 


170 


DRESS. 


for  work  and  ordinary  occupations,  to  wear  a coat  whicxi 
you  do  not  fear  to  spoil,  and  a neck-tie  which  your  ink- 
stand  will  not  object  to,  but  your  acquaintance  might 
Cc  be  ‘^dressed,”  on  the  other  hand,  since  by  dress  we 
d w our  respect  for  society  at  large,  or  the  persons  with 
.1  uoni  w e are  to  mingle,  is  to  be  clothed  in  the  garments 
f iiich  tlie  said  society  pronounces  as  suitable  to  particu- 
lar occjisiuns ; ;so  that  evening  dress  in  the  morning, 
morning  dress  in  the  evening,  and  top  boots  and  a red 
coat  for  walking,  may  all  be  called  ‘^undress,’’  if  not 
positively bad  dress. But  there  are  shades  of  being 
“ dressed  and  a man  is  called  little  dressed,’’  well 
dressed,”  and  ‘‘  much  dressed,”  not  according  to  the  quan- 
tity but  the  quality  of  his  coverings.  The  diminutive 
jockey,  w^hom  I meet  in  my  walks  a month  before  the 
Derby,  looking  like  a ball  of  clothes,  and  undergoing  a 
most  uncomfortable  process  of  liquefaction  which  he  de 
nominates  ^ draining,”  is  by  no  means much  dressed’ 
because  he  wxars  tw^o  great-coats,  three  thick  waistcoats 
and  the  same  number  of  comforters.”  To  be  ‘‘  littB 
dressed”  is  to  w’ear  old  things,  of  a make  that  is  no  Ion 
ger  the  fashion,  halving  no  pretension  to  elegance,  artistii 
beauty,  or  ornament.  It  is  also  to  wear  lounging  clothes 
on  occasions  which  demand  some  amount  of  precision. 
To  be  much  dressed”  is  to  be  in  the  extreme  of  the 
fashion,  with  bran  new  clothes,  jewelry,  and  ornaments, 
with  a touch  of  extravagance  and  gaiety  in  your  colors, 
riius  to  wear  patent  leather  boots  and  yellow  gloves  in  ^ 
jiiet  morning  stroll  is  to  be  much  dressed,  and  certainly 
loes  not  differ  immensely  from  being  badly  dressed.  To 
be  “ well  dressed”  is  the  happy  medium  between  these 
two*  which  is  not  given  to  every  one  to  hold,  inasmuch  oft 


DKEST,  UNDREST,  AND  MUCH  DREST.  171 

good  taste  is  rare,  and  is  a sine  qin  non  thereof.  Tlim 
while  you  avoid  ornament  and  all  fastness,  you  must  cul- 
tivate fashion,  that  is  good  fashion,  in  the  make  of  your 
clothes  A man  must  not  be  made  by  his  tador,  bu? 
-ihould  make  him,  educate  him,  give  him  his  own  gooJ 
faste.  To  be  well  dressed  is  to  be  dressed  precisely 
the  occasion,  place,  weather,  your  height,  figure,  position 
age,  and,  remember  it,  your  means  require.  It  is  to  be 
clothed  without  peculiarity,  pretension,  or  eccentricity; 
without  violent  colors,  elaborate  ornament,  or  senseless 
fashions,  introduced  often  by  tailors  for  their  own  profit. 
Good  dressing  is  to  wear  as  little  jewelry  as  possible, 
to  be  scrupulously  neat,  clean,  and  fresh,  and  to  carry 
your  clothes  as  if  you  did  not  give  them  a thought. 

Then  too  there  is  a scale  of  honor  among  clothes,  which 
must  not  be  forgotten.  Thus,  a new  coat  is  more  hon- 
orable than  an  old  one,  a cut-away  or  shooting-coat  than 
a dressing-gown,  a frock-coat  than  a cut-away,  a dark 
blue  frock-coat  than  a black  frock-coat,  a tail-coat  than  a 
frock-coat.  There  is  no  honor  at  all  in  a blue  tail-coat, 
however,  except  on  a gentleman  of  eighty,  accompanied 
with  brass  buttons  and  a buff  waistcoat.  There  is  more 
honor  in  an  old  hunting-coat  than  in  a new  one,  in  a uni- 
form with  a bullet-hole  in  it  than  one  without,  in  a fus- 
tian jacket  and  smock-frock  than  in  a frock-coat,  because 
they  are  types  of  labor,  which  is  far  more  honorable 
than  lounging.  Again,  light  clothes  are  generally  placed 
bove  dark  ones,  because  they  cannot  be  so  long  worn, 
nd  are  therefore  proerfs  of  expenditure,  alias  money  ^ 
which  in  this  world  is  a commodity  more  honored  tlmn 
every  other ; but  on  the  other  hand,  tasteful  dress  is  al- 
ways more  honorable  than  that  which  has  only  cost  much 


172 


DRESS. 


Li^it  ^l<;ves  are  more  esteemed  than  dark  ones,  and  th€ 
prince  of  glove-colors  is  undeniably  lavender. 

' I should  say  Jones  was  a fast  man/’  said  a friend  to 
me  one  day,  for  he  wears  a white  hat.”  If  this  idea  of 
my  companion’s  be  right,  fastness  may  be  said  to  consii « 
mainly  in  peculiarity.  There  is  certainly  only  one  st(  p 
from  tlie  sublimity  of  fastness  to  the  ridiculousness  of  snob- 
berry,  and  it  is  not  always  easy  to  say  where  the  one  ends 
and  the  other  begins.  A dandy,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the 
clothes  on  a man,  not  a man  in  clothes,  a living  lay  figure 
who  displaj^s  much  dress,  and  is  quite  satisfied  if  you  praise 
it  without  taking  heed  of  him.  A bear  is  in  the  opposite 
extreme  ; never  dressed  enough,  and  always  very  roughly ; 
but  he  is  almost  as  bad  as  the  other,  for  he  sacrifices 
everything  to  his  ease  and  comfort.  The  off-hand  style  of 
dress  only  suits  an  off-hand  character.  It  was  at  one  time 
the  fashion  to  affect  a certain  negligence,  wliich  was  called 
poetic,  and  suppc  sed  to  be  the  result  of  genius.  An  ill- 
tied,  if  not  positively  untied  cravat  was  a sure  sign  of  an 
unbridled  imao-ination ; and  a waistcoat  was  held  together 
by  one  button  only,  as  if  the  swelling  soul  in  the  wearer’s 
bosom  had  burst  all  the  rest.  If  in  addition  to  this  the 
hair  was  unbrushed  and  curly,  you  were  certain  of  passing 
for  a man  of  soul.”  I should  not  recommend  any  young 
gentleman  to  adopt  this  style,  unless  indeed  he  can  mouth 
a great  deal,  and  has  a good  stock  of  quotations  from  the 
poets.  It  t of  no  use  to  show  me  the  clouds,  unless  I ca;o 
{iCditively  see  you  in  them,  and  no  amount  of  negligence 
ij.i  your  dress  and  person  will  convince  me  you  are  a ge 
aiuii,  unless  you  produce  an  octavo  volume  of  poems  pub’ 
lished  by  yourself.  I confess  I am  glad  th  t the  7iigltg^ 
^tyle,  so  common  in  novels  of  ten  years  back^  has  beei* 


STYLES  OF  DRESS. 


17J 


succeeded  by  neatness.  What  we  want  is  real  ease  ii  the 
clothes,  and  for  my  part  I should  rejoice  to  see  the  Kniek 
erbocker  style  generally  adopted. 

Besides  the  ordinary  occasions  treated  of  before,  ther^ 
re  several  special  occasions  requiring  a change  of  dress 
alost  of  our  sports,  together  with  marriage  (which  some 
people  include  in  the  sports),  and  going  to  court,  come 
under  this  head.  Now  with  the  exception  of  the  last,  the 
less  change  we  make  the  better  in  the  present  day,  par- 
ticularly in  sports,  where,  if  we  are  dressed  with  scrupu* 
lous  accuracy,  we  are  liable  to  be  subjected  to  a compari- 
son between  our  clothes  and  our  skill.  A man  who  wcarp 
a red  coat  to  hunt  in,  should  be  able  to  hunt,  and  not 
sneak  through  gates  or  dodge  over  gaps.  Of  wedding- 
dress  and  court-dress  we  shall  speak  in  separate  chapters 
under  the  heads  of  “ Marriage”  and  ‘‘  The  Court.”  But 
a few  remarks  on  dresses  worn  in  different  sports  may  be 
useful.  Having  laid  down  the  rule  that  a strict  accuracy 
of  sporting  costume  is  no  longer  in  good  taste,  we  can  dis 
miss  shooting  and  fishing  at  once,  with  the  warning  that 
we  must  not  dress  well  for  either.  An  old  coat  with  large 
pockets,  gaiters  in  one  case,  and,  if  necessary,  large  boott 
n the  other,  thick  shoes  at  any  rate,  a wide-awake,  and 
a well-filled  bag  or  basket  at  the  end  of  the  day,  make  up 
a most  respectable  sportsman  of  the  lesser  kind.  Then 
for  cricket  you  want  nothing  more  unusual  than  flannel 
trousers,  which  should  be  quite  plain,  unless  your  club 
haj  \dopted  some  colored  stripe  thereon,  a colored  flannel 
shirt  of  no  very  violent  hue,  the  same  colored  cap,  shoes 
witl  spikes  in  them,  and  a great  coat. 

lor  hunting,  lastly,  you  have  to  make  more  change,  if 
only  to  insure  your  own  comfort  and  safety  Thus  cord 


174 


BBBSS. 


breeches  and  some  kind  of  boots  are  indispensable,  be 
are  spurs,  so  a hunting-whip  or  crop  ; so  too,  if  you  dc 
not  wear  a hat,  is  the  strong  round  cap  that  is  to  savf 
your  valuable  skull  from  cracking  if  you  are  thrown  ot 
your  head.  Again,  I should  pity  the  man  who  would  at* 
tempt  to  hunt  in  a frock-coat  or  a dress-coat ; and  a scarf 
with  a pin  in  it  is  much  more  convenient  than  a tie.  But 
beyond  these  you  need  nothing  out  of  the  common  way, 
but  a pocketful  of  money.  The  red  coat,  for  instance,  is 
^nly  worn  by  regular  members  of  a hunt,  and  boys  from 
Oxford  who  ride  over  the  hounds  and  like  to  display  their 
pinks.’’  In  any  case  you  are  better  with  an  ordinary 
riding-coat  of  dark  color,  though  undoubtedly  the  red 
prettier  in  the  field.  If  you  ivill  wear  the  latter,  see  that 
it  is  cut  square,  for  the  swallow-tail  is  obsolete,  and  worn 
only  by  the  fine  old  boys  who  ^‘hunted,  sir,  fifty  years 
ago,  sir,  when  I was  a boy  of  fifteen,  sir.  Those  laere 
hunting  days,  sir  ; such  runs  and  such  leaps.”  Again, 
your  “ cords”  should  be  light  in  color  and  fine  in  quality 
your  waistcoat,  if  with  a red  coat,  quite  light  too ; your 
scarf  of  cashmere,  of  a bufi*  color,  and  fastened  with  a 
small  simple  gold  pin ; your  hat  should  be  old,  and  your 
cap  of  dark  green  or  black  velvet,  plated  inside,  and  with 
a small  stiff  peak,  should  be  made  to  look  old.  Lastly, 
for  a choice  of  boots.  The  Hessians  are  more  easily  clean- 
ed, and  therefore  less  expensive  to  keep;  the  ‘‘tops”  are 
more  natty.  Brummell,  who  cared  more  for  the  hunting 
dress  than  the  hunting  itself,  introduced  the  fashion  of 
pipe-claying  the  tops  of  the  latter,  but  the  old  origiua/ 
‘‘  mahoganies,’^  of  which  the  upper  leathers  are  simply 
polished,  seem  to  be  coming  into  fashion  again. 

We  shall  now  pass  to  a subject  which,  in  every  respect 


HUNTING-  COSTUME. 


175 

is  a much  largei  and  more  delicate  one ; larger  in 
space  it  covers  in  the  surface  of  the  globe ; larger  in  the 
number  of  items  which  go  to  make  it  up ; larger  in  the 
expenditure  it  demands ; and  larger  in  the  respect  of  the 
attention  paid  to  it.  If  it  takes  nine  tailors  to  make 
a man,  it  must  surely  require  nine  women  to  make  a 
thorough  milliner 


CHAPTER  IV. 


ladt’s  dress. 

Far  fro’n  being  of  the  opinion  expressed  by  Catharlc4 
of  Arragon,  that  “dressing  time  is  murdered  time/’  the 
woman,  we  are  apt  to  think,  who  has  not  some  natural 
taste  in  dress,  some  love  of  novelty,  some  delight  in  the 
combination  of  colors,  is  deficient  in  a sense  of  the  beauti- 
fill.  As  a work  of  art,  a well  dressed  woman  is  a study. 

That  a love  of  dress  is  natural  in  woman,  and  that  it 
has  some  great  advantages,  is  so  plain  as  to  be  scarcely 
worth  recording.  It  does  not  follow  that  it  should  engross 
every  other  taste  ; it  is  only  the  coquette’s  heart,  which, 
as  Addison  describes  it,  is  stuffed  with  “ a flame-colored 
hood.”  From  the  days  of  Anne  Boleyn,  who  varied  her 
dress  every  day,  and  who  wore  a small  kerchief  over  her 
round  neck  to  conceal  a mark  thereon,  and  a falling  sleeve 
to  hide  her  doubly-tipped  little  finger,  dress  has  had  its 
place  in  the  heart  of  Englishwomen.  And  it  is  as  well 
that  it  should  do  so ; for  the  dowdy,  be  she  young  or  be 
she  old,  is  sure  to  hear  of  her  deficiencies  from  her  hus- 
band, if  she  has  not  already  done  so  from  brothers  and 
fancy  cousins.  Indifference  and  consequent  inattention  to 
dress  often  show  pedantry,  self-righteousness,  or  indolence ; 
and  whilst  extolled  by  the  “ unco  gude”  as  a virtue,  may 
be  noted  as  a defect.  Every  woman  should,  habitually, 
make  the  best  of  herself.  We  dress  out  our  receiving 
rooms  with  natural  flowers ; are  their  inmates  to  look  in- 
(176) 


THE  LOVE  OF  HUESS. 


171 


consistent  with  the  drawing  room  over  which  thej^  preside  I 
We  make  our  tables  gorgeous,  or  at  all  events  seemly, 
with  silver,  glass  and  china;  wherefore  should  our  wive? 
be  less  attractive  than  all  around  them  ? Amongst  thi 
rich  and  great,  the  love  of  dress  promotes  some  degree  of 
exertion  and  display  of  taste  in  themselves,  and  fosters  in 
genuity  and  industry  in  inferiors  ; in  the  middle  classes 
it  engenders  contrivance,  diligence,  neatness  of  hand ; 
among  the  humbler  it  has  its  good  effects.  But  in  thus 
giving  a love  of  dress  its  due,  the  taste,  the  consistency, 
and  the  practicability  of  dress  are  kept  in  view  ; the  de- 
votion to  dress  which  forms,  in  France,  a ‘‘  Science  apart/ ^ 
and  which  occupies,  it  must  be  allowed,  many,  too  many 
an  Englishwoman’s  head,  is  not  only  selfish,  but  contemp- 
tible. So  iong  as  dress  merely  interests,  amuses,  occupies 
only  such  time  as  we  can  reasonably  allot  to  it,  it  is  salu- 
tary. It  prevents  women  from  indulging  in  sentiment ; it 
is  a remedy  for  maladies  imaginaires  ; it  somewhat  re- 
fines the  tastes  and  the  habits,  and  gives  satisfaction  and 
pleasure  to  others. 

Besides,  an  attention  to  dress  is  almost  requisite  in  the 
present  state  of  society ; a due  influer.ee  in  which  cannot 
be  attained  without  it.  It  is  useful,  too,  as  retaining, 
even  in  the  minds  of  sensible  men,  that  pride  in  a wife’s 
appearance  which  is  so  agreeable  to  her,  and  which  mate- 
rially fades  during  the  gradual  decay  of  personal  attrac- 
ti<.ms.  “ No  one  looked  better  than  my  wife  did  to-night  ’’ 
is  a sentence  which  one  often  rejoices  to  hear  from  th 
lips  of  an  honest  hearted  English  husband,  after  a party 
or  a ball,  how  much  soever  we  may  doubt  the  soundness 
of  his  decision. 

But  whilst  the  a Ivantages  of  a love  of  dress  are  ad 


178 


LADY'S  DRESS. 


mitted,  how  mournfully  we  approach  a consiJeraticn  of 
its  perils.  A love  of  dress,  uncontrolled,  stimulated  hj 
c^)quetry  and  personal  vanity  until  it  cancels  every  rigU' 
principle,  becomes  a temptation  first  and  then  a curse 
Not  to  expatiate  upon  the  evils  it  produces  in  the  way  oi 
example,  the  envy  an  undue  passion  for  and  excess  in  di  es 
excites,  the  extortionate  class  of  persons  in  the  shape  ol 
milleners  and  dressmakers  it  unduly  enriches,  and  the 
enormous  expenses  it  is  known  to  lead  to  when  indulged 
criminally,  that  is,  to  the  detriment  of  better  employments, 
and  beyond  the  compass  of  means,  let  us  remember  how 
it  implies  selfishness  and  vanity,  and  causes  remonstrances 
and  often  reproaches  from  the  person  most  likely  to  suffei 
from  his  wife’s  indulgencies — her  husband. 

Analyze  the  bill  of  a fashionable  milliner  when  the 
dresses,  of  which  it  comprises  a fabulous  reckoning,  are 
even  only  half  worn  out.  What  gauzes,  and  odds  and 
ends  of  lace,  and  trimmings,  useless  after  a night  or  two’s 
wear,  and  fiouncings  and  furbelow'^s  and  yards  of  tvlle 
lusion  it  enumerates  ! Tulle  indeed  ! all  is  il- 

lusion ! and  yet  for  this  a husband’s  income  is  charged, 
often  at  an  inconvenience,  or  a wife’s  allowance  encum- 
bered, or  angry  words  engendered,  or  the  family  credit 
impeached ; and,  worse  than  all,  charity  and  even  justie.c 
must  be  suppressed,  on  account  of  this  claim  from  a mil 
liner  as  remorseless  as  she  is  fashionable,  for  these  tvvt. 
points  are  generally  in  the  same  ratio.  Then  there  iE 
another  evil ; it  has  been  found  that  the  indulgence  ir 
pers»)nal  luxury  in  women  has  an  injurious  efiect  on  the  mcr 
Ba  tone.  It  is  in  some  natures  the  first  symptom,  if  not 
the  cause,  of  a relaxation  in  virtue ; at  all  events  it  h 
often  mistaken  for  such.  A woman  of  simple  habits,  ac 


LUXURY  AND  EXTRAVAGANCE. 

:x>upaiiied  with  nicety  and  good  taste,  rarely  goes  wrong 
at  any  rate  is  rarely  supposed  to  do  so.  Luxury  in  dress 
at  first  an  indulgent,  becomes  a necessity  : discontent,  2 
sense  of  humiliation,  and  a yearning  for  what  cannot  If 
Lad,  are  the  effects  of  that  withdrawal  of  the  power  of 
extravagance  which  so  often  happens  in  this  changing  and 
cjommercial  country. 

We  used  to  point  to  America  as  the  country  in  which 
excessive  dress  was  a reproach  ; the  rich  silks,  the  foreign 
lace,  the  black  satin  shoes,  and  the  decolUe  evening  dress 
of  the  fair  inhabitants  of  New’  York,  even  in  Broadway, 
are  themes  of  comment  to  us  all.  We  used  to  w'onder  at 
the  French  dame  du  tnonde^  who  gives  six  hundred  pounds 
for  her  set  of  winter  sables.  Instances  are  not  wanting, 
either,  in  \ iqnna  and  Bavaria,  of  ladies  who  spend  seven 
or  eight  hundred  a year  on  dress,  independent  of  jewelry. 
It  is  remarked  in  Paris,  that  habits  of  luxe  in  every  shape, 
but  especially  in  dress,  have  come  in  with  the  present  re- 
gime, The  old  Legitimist  families,  though  habitually  and 
innately  studious  in  dress,  prided  themselves  on  their  ele- 
gant simplicity,  as  distinguishing  them  from  bourgeoisie 
The  Court  of  Louis  Philippe  was  remarkable  for  its  home- 
liness ; and  the  Queen  and  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  se 
an  example  of  a noble  superiority  to  the  vanities  of  life. 
Few  carriages  were  kept,  comparatively ; and  where  la- 
dies cannot  have  carriages,  they  must  dress  plainly  in  the 
atreets.  But  with  the  marriage  of  Louis  Napoleon,  th*s 
Empiuss  has,  probably  without  intending  it,  been  the 
originator  of  extreme  richness  and  variety  in  dress ; and 
the  contamination  has  spread  to  England.  Never  did 
women  require  so  much.  Every  lady,  and  even  everj 
lady’s  maid,  must  now  have  her  petticoats  edged  with 


180 


LADY'S  DRESS. 


work.  The  cost  of  pocket-handkerchiefs  is  son.3tlia^ 
marvellous ; the  plain  fine  cambric,  than  which  nothin4 
is  more  appropriate  or  more  agreeable,  is  only  fit  for  ou! 
inferiors.  Cufis,  collars,  jabots^  '^heinistttcs^  are  a genm 
that  half  ruin  a lady  of  moderate  means.  Until  lately 
flounces  went  into  such  extremes  that  it  required  twentr 
or  two-and-tw'enty  yards  to  make  a dress  for  the  wife  of  2 
hard  working  physician  or  lawyer ; but,  happily,  the  ex- 
cess has  cured  itself.  France,  in  returning  good  sense, 
now  decrees  that  everything  shall  be  plain.  Trimmings, 
that  snare  to  the  unwary,  out  of  which  dressmakers  made 
fortunes,  and  husbands  lost  them,  are  put  down.  How 
long  this  salutary  change  may  continue  no  one  can  tell ; 
but  a woman  of  sense  should  be  superior  to  all  these  va- 
riations. She  should  keep  within  the  bounds  of  the 
fashion.  Sho  should  not  dress  out  that  perishable  piece 
of  clay  with  money  wrung  from  the  hands  of  an  anxious, 
laborious  husband  ; or  taken,  if  her  husband  be  a man  of 
fortune,  from  his  means  of  charity. 

The  proportion  of  what  amongst  the  great  we  call  pin- 
money,  and  amongst  their  inferiors  an  allowance  for  dress, 
is  a very  diflBcult  matter  to  decide.  Consistency,  in  regard 
to  station  and  fortune,  is  the  first  matter  to  be  considered. 
A lady  of  rank,  the  mother  of  three  beautiful,  ill-fated 
daughters,  is  reported  ‘Ho  be  able  to  do”  with  two  thou- 
sand a year  for  dress  ! A monstrous  sum  ; a monstrous? 
sin  to  spend  it ! When  we  look  into  the  details  of  a 
recent  bankruptcy  case,  in  which  the  items  of  the  famous 
Miss  Jane  Clark’s  bills  for  the  dresses  of  two  fashionalde, 
and  we  must  add  most  blamable,  women  were  exposed,  the 
secret  of  these  enormous  sums  for  dress  is  revealed.  Il 
Bonsists  in  reckless  orders^  and  their  results,  fabulom 


ALLOWANCE  FOR  DRESS. 


181 


prices.  A lady  once  followed  the  late  excellent  Priiicesa 
Augusta  into  the  rooms  of  a Court  milliner.  Having 
waited  until  that  illustrious  lady  had  retired,  it  was  tim: 
for  the  humbler  customer  to  make  her  selection.  She  asked 
the  price  of  a dress,  apologizing  therefor,  for  she  was  much 
impressed  by  the  r«yal  and  dignified  aspect  which  had  pre* 
ceded  her.  Don’t  make  any  apology,  ma’am,”  was  the 
Court  milliner’s  exclamation ; her  Royal  Highness  never 
orders  an  article  without  asking  the  price ; and  I always 
like  to  receive  ladies  who  ask  prices ; it  shows  that  they 
intend  to  pay.” 

The  cost  therefore  of  dress  depends  so  much  on  the  pru 
dence  as  well  as  on  the  discrimination  of  a lady,  for  she 
should  know  how  to  choose  her  dress,  that  it  is  difficult  tc 
lay  down  any  rule  of  expenditure.  For  married  womei 
of  rank,  five  hundred  a year  ought  to  be  the  maximum ; a 
hundred  a year  the  minimum  (and  there  are  many  peers 
who  cannot  easily  afford  to  give  their  wives  even  so  much). 
The  wives  of  ministers,  and  more  especially  of  diplomatists, 
who  require  to  appear  frequently  either  in  foreign  courts, 
or  in  our  own,  may  require  five  hundred,  or  even  more, 
though  I am  persuaded  very  few  of  our  ambassadorial  ladies 
have  so  much  to  spend. 

With  regard  to  unmarried  women,  what  a revolt  amongst 
them  there  would  be  if  old  Lord  Eldon  were  now  alive  tc 
lay  down,  as  he  did,  as  a maxim,  that  forty  pounds  a yeai 
was  enough  for  any  girl  not  of  age,  even  if  she  had  largt 
expectations ; and  that  was  all  he  allotted  to  a ward  of 
Chancery  who  was  heiress  to  five  thousand  a year.  L 
was,  perhaps,  too  little.  In  a trial,  in  which  a celebrat(3d 
barrister,  who  had  an  extravagant  wife,  was  sued  for  dress- 
makers’  bills  for  his  reckless  spe  use,  the  judge  stated  that 


182 


LADY’S  DRESS. 


sixty  pounds  a year  was  an  ample  allowance  for  the  wift 
of  a professional  man,  and  beyond  that  bills  could  nv)t  be 
recovered.  That  was  essential : more  was  extravagance 

Certainly  these  legal  authorities  were  moderate  in  tludi 
views ; especially  as  no  women  are  so  extravagant — none 
luxurious,  generally,  as  the  wives  of  successful  barristers. 

The  Tbnes^  whose  range  and  power  seem  to  resemble 
the  elephant’s  trunk  that  can  pick  up  a pin  or  crush  a man, 
in  a late  sensible  and  amusing  ‘‘leader,”  made  a remark 
which  will  comfort  struggling  professional  men,  and,  gen- 
erally, be  thankfully  received  by  all  who  need  some  au- 
thority to  aid  in  keeping  the  milliner’s  bill  within  lue 
bounds.  It  was  simply  to  the  effect  that  a tasteful,  care- 
ful lady,  with  the  start  of  a moderately  good  trousseau^ 
ought  (and  many  do)  to  make  twenty  pounds  a year  suffice 
for  the  dress  of  herself  and  children  during  the  first  few 
years  of  married  life,  and  this  without  any  compromise  of 
respectability. 

Much,  however,  depends  on  management , much  on  the 
care  taken  of  dress.  In  these  respects  the  French  are  in- 
finitely our  superiors.  Even  the  gramles  dames  of  Paris 
are  not  intimidated  by  their  maids  into  throwing  away  a 
half-worn  dress ; on  the  contrary,  everything  is  turned  to 
account.  On  entering  the  apartment  of  a couturUre  one 
day,  a lady  was  struck  by  the  elegance  of  ribbon  trimming 
on  a court- train.  The  coutiirure  smiled,  and  pointed  to 
an  old  dress  from  which  the  still  unsoiled  ribbon  had  been 
taken.  This  was  to  be  the  dress,  and  the  lady  saw  it  the 
next  night  at  the  Tuileries,  and  knew  it  at  once ; in  this 
the  sister  of  a Due  and  Mar  .'dial  of  France,  herself  a 
Countess,  appeared.  We  should  find  it  impossible  to  gel 
•any  mantua- maker  to  perform  such  an  act  of  virtuous  econ 


ALiiOWANCE  FOR  DRESS 


183 


imy  in  favor  of  an  English  customer.  Ti  e due  c«re  of 
dress  is  also  a great  point  towards  a reasonable  economy. 
In  England,  ladies  think  it  becoming  their  dignity  to  be 
indiflferent  to  the  preservation  of  their  dresses  when  on. 

In  France  the  reverse  is  carried  to  an  excess.  T ^nce 
followed,”  said  a lady,  a French  lady  in  her  carriage,  «l 
we  both  went  to  the  same  party.  Her  dress  was  composed 
of  an  exquisite  tulle,  with  puffings  of  the  same  light  ma- 
terial. She  stood  up  in  her  carriage  the  whole  way,  for 
fear  of  crushing  it.” 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  this  over-care  of  the  dress 
in  the  higher  classes,  the  habit  of  conservativeness  is  of 
Vast  importance  to  women  in  the  middle  class,  and  yet, 
Btrange  to  say,  it  is  less  common  in  them  than  among  the 
great.  Old  families  are  mostly  conservative  of  personali- 
ties ; it  is  a remarkable  feature  in  them,  and  to  it  we  owe 
those  relics  of  limes  long  gone  by,  which,  had  they  been 
new  in  the  present  day,  would  have  been  deemed  scarcely 
worth  the  preservation. 

But  whilst  too  much  cannot  be  said  against  extravagance 
and  destructiveness,  it  must  also  be  stated,  under  the  head 
of  the  minor  virtues,  the  wonderful  art  some  people  have 
of  making  a good  appearance  on  small  means.  “ A man’s 
appearance,”  says  the  good,  old-fashioned,  sensible  Spec- 
tator ^ ‘‘falls  within  the  censure  of  everyone  that  sees 
him  ; his  parts  and  learning  very  few  are  judges  of.”  So 
in  regard  to  women.  No  stranger  knows  the  heart  that 
beats  beneath  an  ill-made  gown,  or  the  qualities  of  head 
that  lie  hidden  beneath  a peculiar  old-fashioned,  or  hideous 
cap.  A woman  may  be  an  angel  of  goodness,  a Minerva 
in  wisdom,  a Diana  in  morals,  a Sappho  in  sentiment,  yet 
if  she  wears  a sciled  dress  where  all  around  are  in  now 


184 


LADY'S  DRESS. 


Hnd  fresh  dresses,  or  has  an  ill  arranged  bonnet  or  head- 
dress, esteem,  even  affection,  will  not  resist  a smile  or  2 
sigh ; and  the  mere  acquaintance  will  have  every  right  tc 
jeer  at  what  seems  to  imply  an  ignorance  of  the  habits 
good  society. 

Next  in  injury  to  her  who  practises  extravagance  of 
dress,  is  extravagance  in  fashion.  From  the  middle  ages 
the  English  ladies  have  been  bad  dressers.  Witness  Queen 
Mary  when  married  to  Philip  ii.  of  Spain,  spoiling  the 
effect  of  a superb  wedding-dress,  in  the  French  style,  by 
wearing  a black  scarf  and  scarlet  shoes,  which,  it  has  been 
sarcastically  observed,  was  worse  than  burning  Protestants. 
During  the  last  century  head-dresses  rose  to  a stupendous 
height,  each  lady  carrying  on  her  head  a tower  composed  of 
a cushion,  on  which  the  hair  was  drawn  back,  and  clubbed 
or  rolled  on  the  top  of  the  neck.  On  this  fabric  were 
arranged  feathers,  flowers,  pearls  dangling  in  loops,  rib- 
bons, and  old  point  lace.  Sometimes  a tiny  mob-cap  was 
stuck  on  one  side  ; the  whole  was  so  immense  that  even  the 
huge  family  coaches  were  too  small,  and  the  ladies  usually 
sat  with  their  heads  hanging  out  of  the  window  of  the  car- 
riage. Powder  was  a main  ingredient,  and  hair-dressing 
indeed  a science.  On  great  occasions  the  hair-dresser 
waited  on  our  fair  ancestresses  betimes ; belabored  thei? 
tresses  with  the  powder-puff,  and,  with  what  looked  like 
the  end  of  a candle,  a pomatum-stick,  until  no  trace  of 
,nature  could  peep  out  to  mar  the  belle.  Then  he  placed 
the  cushion,  sticking  it  on  with  long  pins  of  wire  next 
he  struck  here  and  there  the  bows,  or  feathers,  or  flowers. 
After  an  hour’s  torture,  in  which  neither  back  must  be 
bent,  nor  head  moved,  he  left  her,  not  to  repose,  but  to  sit 
as  if  in  a Tice  until  the  patches  or  moiiches  were  stuck  01 


EXTRAVAGANCE  IN  FASHION. 


185 


skilfully ; the  tight  corsets  drawn  to  an  agony  point ; th« 
pointed  and  heeled  shoes  put  on  over  the  well-pricked  silt 
stocking;  and  the  dress  that  could  have  stood  alone,  co:u« 
posed  over  a fortification  of  strong  whale-bone  that  sprung? 
cut  a great  circumference,  being  a series  of  bands,  regu* 
lated  by  a spring,  aud  constituting  that  great  feature  of 
full  dress — the  hoop. 

In  Paris,  there  was  a champion  of  low  heads  in  the 
person  of  a Swiss,  who,  not  being  able  to  see  over  these 
turrets  of  heads  at  the  grande  opera,  used  to  cut  away, 
as  one  does  at  evergreens,  right  and  left,  in  order  to  clear 
away  the  view.  At  last,  the  ladies,  in  dismay,  and  alarm- 
ed at  his  scissors,  gave  him  up  a front  place ; but,  even- 
tually, the  ridicule  thus  cast  on  the  mode  banished  it,  or 
helped  to  do  so,  and  a less  absurd  coiffure  came  into  vogue 

The  art  of  placing  patches  on  the  face  and  neck  was  of 
earlier  origin,  and  came  in  during  the  reign  of  Charles  ii. 
It  was  of  French  origin  ; and  Henrietta  of  Orleans,  the 
sister  of  the  King,  was  amongst  the  first  to  display  mouches 
or  patches  at  court.  This  time  even  Mrs.  Pepys  was  pe?'* 
mitted  by  her  husband  to  wear  them ; and  the  vanity  of 
the  ci-devant  tailor  spoke  forcibly  in  these  words  : — ‘‘  l.'he 
Princess  Henrietta  is  very  pretty  ; but  my  wife,  standing 
near  her,  with  two  or  three  black  patches  on,  and  well- 
dressed,  still  seems  to  me  much  handsomer  than  she.’^ 
Patches  long  held  their  reign ; and  went  out  only  with 
rouge,  having  even  survived  the  reign  of  powder. 

At  length  a more  natural  taste  dawned  in  England , bu 
it  was  reserved  for  Mrs.  Siddons  first  to  appear  on  tbe 
»tstge  without  powder,  and  her  own  rich  dark  hair  arrang^l 
in  massive  tresses  on  her  fine  head. 

Towards  the  beginning  of  the  present  century  came  iw 


:86 


liADI'S  DRESS. 


she  extremes  of  t:c;ht  dresses  and  shor!;  waists.  The  skirts 
of  dresses  were  made  as  scanty  as  possible,  and  gored,  that 
is,  made  much  wider  at  the  base  than  at  the  top.  Tlicre 
was  an  inch  of  sleeve,  and  two  inches  of  boddice*.  It  a? 
impossible  not  to  be  indelicate,  unless  you  put  on  hat  v ai 
called  a ^^modesty-piece,’’  or  tucker,  formed  of  lace  oi 
wwked  muslin  ; even  then  the  requisite  propriety  was  al- 
most  unattainable.  As  to  the  hair,  that  was  drawn  up  to 
the  top  of  the  head,  and  two  or  three  curls  worn  in  front, 
just  above  the  eyebrows.  Since  hoops  had  been  outra 
geous,  and  head-dresses  had  obstructed  the  view  of  Hei 
Majesty’s  liege  subjects,  society  thus  revenged  herself. 
Politics,  too,  at  that  time  influenced  fashion.  Then  came 
the  Brutus  crop,  in  w^hich  style  many  of  our  fair  ances- 
tresses are  depicted ; this  was  in  compliment  to  the  Roman 
heroism  of  the  First  Consul,  Bonaparte,  and  was  caught 
up  in  England.  Small  Leghorn  hats,  like  men’s  hats,  w^ere 
all  the  vogue,  and  were  in  their  turn  displaced  for  high- 
orowned  bonnets  with  an  inch  or  two  of  poke,  which  yield- 
ed, in  due  course,  to  the  cottage-bonnet,  or  capite. 

The  hair  at  this  time  was  getting  higher  and  higher, 
until,  about  twenty  years  ago,  it  reached  the  giraffe — a 
bow  of  hair,  or  two,  or  even  three  bows  raised  on  trian- 
gular pins  made  on  purpose,  and  fastened  skillfully  into 
the  hair ; over  this  rose  the  bow  called — in  compliment  to 
the  first  appearance  of  two  giraffes  in  this  country — the 
giraffe  bows.  Their  reign  was  short,  and  the  hair  sank 
down  to  the  very  extreme,  and  ringlets,  which  reached  the 
very  waist,  and  plaits  low  down  in  the  neck  behind,  suc- 
ceeded. There  was  a transient  reign  of  the  Oldenburg 
bonnet,  introduced  by  the  beautiful  Duchess  of  Oldenburg 
when  she  visited  this  country  in  1818.  This  bonnet  wa# 


CHANGES  OF  EASHlOxV. 


187 


nothing  mere  nor  less  than  a coal-scuttle  in  straw ^ and 
turned  up  round  the  rim  ; it  was  tremendously  warm  tc 
wear ; and  caricatures  were  drawn  at  the  time  showing  a 
gentleman’s  diflGiculty  in  making  love  to  his  inamorata^ 
whose  face  was  enclosed  in  the  Oldenburg  bonnet.  The 
effect  of  a number  of  these  bonnets  collected  in  a small 
space  was  ludicrous.  A very  pretty  simple  cottage,  aftci 
all  the  best  style,  succeeded  the  Oldenburg.  About  1821 
the  gored  skirts  gave  place  to  those  slightly  gathered,  or 
plaited  round  the  figure.  There  was  a perfect  revolt  against 
this  fashion ; many  elegant  women  heading  the  malcontents. 
Happily  they  were  obliged  to  yield,  and  the  loose  and  full 
flowing  dresses  came  into  fashion,  and  kept  their  place, 
after  a disgraceful  interregnum  of  very  short  petticoats, 
only  7iot  showing  the  knees;  which  extreme,  it  is  believed, 
induced  the  auoption  of  full  and  long  skirts. 

With  occasional  deviations,  the  form  of  the  dress  has 
not  very  greatly  varied  since  the  grand  revolution  which 
discarded  gores,  until  that  counter-agitation  w^hich  brought 
in  crinolines.  This  innovation  is  well  exemplified  by 
merely  recalling  the  degeneracy  in  costume  of  the  Impe- 
rial arbitress  of  fashion  who  introduced  it.  At  one  of  the 
Tuileries  balls  in  1852,  a young  Spanish  lady  was  the 
theme  of  all  tongues.  She  was  dressed  in  white,  with  a 
beautiful  circlet  of  black  velvet  on  her  head  ; on  this  circlet 
were  stars  of  diamonds.  The  hair,  blond  doree  ; the  brow, 
alabaster ; the  somewhat  melancholy  eyes,  with  their  long 
lashes,  the  regular  but  rather  rigid  pupil,  were  justly  ad- 
mired. Mademoiselle  de  Montijo,  as  she  then  was,  was 
sparkling  with  happiness ; the  Emperor,  that  general  who 
has  since  well-nigh  dethroned  Austria,  yet,  spared  Venice, 
hal  that  night  signified  his  intention  of  making  Eugenif 


188 


LADY'S  DRESS. 


de  Montijo  Empress  of  Fiance,  by  placing  on  her  head  a 
white  flower ; she  was  radiant  with  excitement. 

Her  figure,  however,  w^as  the  subject  of  all  praise  1 1 
was  slight,  and  perfectly  well  dressed.  The  dress 
tight  in  the  corsage,  and  full,  moderately  full,  in  the  ski  it. 
Since  then,  what  a change  ! That  small,  but  matchless 
form,  far  more  remarkable  for  grace  than  for  dignity  cornea 
forth  encumbered,  unnaturally  enlarged,  and  indeed  de- 
formed with  an  excess  of  fulness  which  can  only  be  sup- 
ported by  a device  which  in  principle  is  the  grandchild  of 
the  hoop.  As  she  walks,  the  petticoats  shake  about,  and 
'the  artifice  underneath  is  revealed.  The  Empress  is  there , 
but  the  beautiful  tourniire  of  Eugenie  de  Montijo  is  lost 
in  the  mass  of  bouffons  and  flounces  over  the  invisible 
though  protruding  crinoline.  The  infatuation  has  spread 
from  the  palace  to  the  private  house  ; thence  even  to  the 
cottage.  Your  lady’s  maid  must  now  needs  have  her  crin- 
oline, and  it  has  even  become  an  essential  to  factory  girls. 
The  smart  young  needlewoman  has  long  thought  that 
neither  she,  nor  any  one  else,  could  appear  without  it. 

That  there  are  some  advantages  in  this  modern  fashion, 
cannot  be  denied.  On  State  occasions  it  gives  importance, 
shows  oflF  a dress,  and  preserves  it  from  trailing  on  the 
floor.  For  walking,  it  has  the  recommendation  of  keeping 
the  dresses  out  of  the  dirt;  which  may  to  some  extent 
compensate  for  the  very  unpleasant  and  visible  effect  vi 
‘‘carrying  one’s  tails  behind  one,”  since  the  skirt  often 
shakes  about  as  if  there  was  a balloon  around  the  person 
Otherwise,  the  crinoline  is  unnatural — as  some  wear  it,  in- 
delicate— and  cumbersome,  and  gives  an  appearance  of 
width  below  that  is  pefectly  frightful.  Now,  however,  the 
excess,  seems  abating.  As  if  to  make  the  contrast  greater 


CRINOLINE. 


m 


those  who  so  expand  below,  do  not  hesitate,  in  many  in 
stances,  to  ointract  above,  by  tight  lacing ; but  this  also 
is  a custom  that  has  very  much  decreased  of  late  years. 
Formerly,  instances  were  frequently  known  of  young  ladies^ 
nearly  perishing  under  the  self-imposed  torture  of  what 
nay  not  be  inaptly  called  the  waist-screw.  A physician 
at  dinner  one  day  with  his  family,  was  summoned  by 
knocks  and  rings  to  a house  in  the  same  street,  where  theri 
had  been  a dinner  party.  The  ladies  had  just  retired  to 
the  drawing-room,  when,  suddenly,  the  youngest  and  fair- 
est of  them  fell  fainting  back  into  her  chair.  Restoratives 
were  applied,  but  consciousness  did  not  return.  The  phy 
sician  came ; he  was  an  aged  and  practical  man,  w’ell 
versed  in  every  variety  of  female  folly.  He  took  out  his 
penknife ; the  company  around  thought  he  was  going  to 
bleed  the  still  unconscious  patient.  ‘‘Ha,  this  is  tight 
lacing!”  he  suddenly  said ; and  adding,  “ no  time  to  be 
lost,”  he  cut  open  the  boddice  of  the  dress ; it  opened,  and, 
with  a gush,  gave  the  poor  young  lady  breath ; the  heart 
had  been  compressed  by  tight  lacing,  and  had  nearly  ceas- 
ed to  act.  In  another  moment  it  would  have  been  too  late ; 
the  action  of  the  heart  would  have  ceased  altogether. 

It  has  been  found,  also,  that  the  liver,  the  lungs,  the 
powers  of  the  stomach,  have  been  brought  into  a diseased 
state  by  this  most  pernicious  habit.  Loss  of  bloom,  fixed 
redness  in  the  nose,  eruptions  on  the  skin,  are  among  it? 
3ad  effects.  If  prolonged,  there  is  no  knowing  to  what 
malady  tight  lacing  may  not  tc  ^d ; its  most  apparent 
effect  is  an  injured  digestion,  and  consequent  loss  of  ap 
petite.  Of  this,  however,  it  is  often  difficult  to  convince 
the  practised  tight-lacer  ; for  vanity  is  generally  obstinate. 

Nc  girl  should  wear  bones  or  steels  until  she  has  dem 


190 


LADY'S  DRESS. 


growkig.  Until  then  a boddice,  close-fitting,  hut  no! 
tight,  or  even  a mere  flannel  waistcoat,  is  all  that  shculd 
be  allowed,  if  a mother  wishes  to  avoid  seeing  her  child 
with  a curved  spine.  During  the  reig-n  of  tight  lacing 
and  of  stays  so  stiff*,  that  when  spread  out  they  resemble^ 
a board  in  texture,  seven  women  in  ten  were  crooked 
Whole  families  leaned  on  one  side  or  the  other.  “ You 
are  no  worse  than  your  neighbors,’’  was  the  common  ex- 
pression of  any  surgeon  called  in  to  attend  in  a case  of 
curvature  of  the  spine.  That  is  not  the  case  now,  to 
nearly  such  an  extent. 

But  looking  at  tight  lacing  without  consideration  of  its 
effect  on  health,  and  merely  as  its  tendency  to  improve  or 
to  injure  the  appearance,  nothing  can  be  more  absurd  than 
to  believe  that  it  is  advantageous  to  the  figure.  A very 
small  waist  is  rather  a deformity  than  a beauty.  To  sec 
the  shoulders  cramped  and  squeezed  together,  is  anythinq 
but  agreeable ; the  figure  should  be  easy,  well  developed 
supple  : if  Nature  has  not  made  the  waist  small,  compres 
sion  cannot  mend  her  work.  Dress  may  do  much  to  les- 
sen the  awkward  appearance  of  a thick  waist  by  clever 
adaptations ; by  the  use  of  stays  both  easy  and  well  fit- 
ting ; by  a little  extra  trimming  on  the  shoulders,  which 
naturally  makes  the  waist  appear  smaller.  All  this  may 
be  done  without  injury ; no  stays  can  answer  the  purpose 
80  well  as  those  made  by  a good  French  stay-maker,  wlic 
has  the  art  of  taking  a sort  of  model  of  the  figure  by  the 
extreme  exactness  of  her  measurements.  The  stays  are 
made  single,  and  therefore  fit  better  than  double  ones  : 
they  give  with  every  movement.  Those  lately  introduced, 
which  fasten  at  once,  are  not  so  advantageous  to  the  fig- 
ure as  the  old  fashioned  plan  of  lacing  beliind,  but  ar€ 


HOW  IaR  fashion  MAY  BE  FOLLOWED 


191 


admirable  in  point  of  convenience  and  despatch.  By  their 
aid^  elderly  ladies  who  have  not  dressed  themselves,  but 
have  been  dressed  by  a maid  for  years,  have  become  inde- 
pendent; a great  benefit  to  health  and  despatch.  The 
slight  exertion  of  dressing  one’s-self,  the  gentle  exercise 
it  induces  after  repose,  the  excellent  habit  of  order,  and 
the  necessity  it  imposes  of  throwing  off  the  thoughts,  that 
may  perhaps  too  much  have  occupied  the  mind  during  the 
hours  of  a wakeful  night,  render  the  operation  of  dressing 
to  those  in  fair  health,  a very  salutary  exertion. 

It  is  often  disputed  how  far  ladies  are  justified  in  fol- 
lowing the  fashion  of  the  day ; how  far  they  could  be 
praised  or  blamed  for  conforming  or  for  resisting  the  influ- 
ences around  them  in  that  respect.  To  adopt  the  prevail- 
ing fashion,  but  not  carry  it  to  excess,  seems  the  most  ra- 
tional line  of  conduct ; none  but  a great  beauty,  or  a per- 
son of  any  exalted  rank,  can  deviate,  and  hope  to  escape 
ridicule,  from  what  fashion  has  introduced.  Even  in  the 
.^.v^knowledged  beauty,  there  is  a presumption  in  doing  so. 
Yet  there  were  during  the  last  reign  three  lively  sisters, 
all  now  ennobled  by  marriage,  who,  at  Court,  when  all 
were  crowned  with  plumes,  then  worn  like  a crest  on  the 
head,  nine  or  twelve  in  number,  went  to  the  drawing-rooms 
with  a small  feather  on  either  side,  and  without  diamonds  ; 
it  was  a courageous  feat,  but  the  effect  was  good,  and  pro- 
duced, some  thought,  the  reduction  of  plumes  at  Court. 

A reasonable  and  tasteful  acquiescence  in  the  rapl] 
changes — if  not  too  rapid — in  the  modes  of  dress,  is  sen- 
sible convenient.  No  single  individual  can  success- 
fully oppose  the  stream  of  fashion.  Everything  that  is 
j)6culiar  in  dress  is,  we  are  convinced,  more  or  less  objec- 
tionable. Dr.  Johnson  was  nraising  a ladv  for  being  very 


192 


LADY  ri  DRESS. 


well  dressed.  “ I am  sure  she  was  well  dressed,  ^ ae  re 
iterated,  ‘‘for  I cannot  remember  what  sire  had  on  ' 
Now,  had  not  the  lady’s  dress  been  modern  in  the  fashion 
he  would  have  been  struck  with  some  anomaly,  some  pe 
euJiarity,  in  form  or  colors  The  general  effect  was  ad 
mirable;  what  more  could  be  wished?  details  arc  imj)oi“ 
tant  to  the  dress-maker  and  to  the  tailor : it  is  effect  that 
tells  on  society.  Too  much  importance  cannot  be  assigned 
to  the  harmony  of  colors.  No  nation  in  this  respect  offends 
so  greatly  as  the  English  : they  mistake  gaudiness  for  effect, 
or  dowdiness  for  elegance.  When  full  colors  are  in  fash- 
ion, a lady,  however  well  dressed,  will  look  ill  if  she  ad- 
heres to  the  delicate  pinks  and  almost  invisible  blues  which 
prevailed  some  years  since,  lovely  as  those  pure  and  soft 
hades  are.  She  will,  however,  require  an  artist’s  eye  to 
combine  the  more  glowing  shades  skilfully,  in  order  to  es- 
cape being  the  parroquet  of  the  company.  A certain 
duchess,  noted  for  the  magnificence  in  which  her  stately 
person  is  arrayed — so  stately  is  it,  as  to  bear  down  even 
royalty  itself  in  queenly  dignity — is  so  aware  of  the  im- 
portance of  combining  colors  well,  that  one  of  her  fem- 
mes de  chambre  is  a combination  maid,”  selected  on  ac- 
count of  her  judgment  in  colors ; thus,  every  toilette  for 
the  day  or  night  is  submitted  by  her  ; the  shawl  is  affront- 
ed with  the  gown ; the  bonnet  is  made  to  suit  with  both 
The  wreath  of  flowers  is  to  be  in  keeping  with  the  rich 
boddice,  the  boddice  with  the  sweeping  train;  the  rich 
jewelry,  taken  from  a casket  almost  unparalleled  uinong 
the  subjects  of  any  country,  must  not  eclipse,  but  heighten 
the  tints  of  the  dress : the  whole  is  placed  for  inspection; 
as  an  artist  dresses  up  a lay  figure  ; and  the  repute  of  the 
oombinaticn-  maid  is  staked  on  the  result.  White  was  that 


MORNING  DRKS3 


gorgeous  lady’s  favorite  attire ; white,  scarce  purer 
the  face,  0 call  it  pale,  not  fair white,  which  com- 
bines” with  every  hue,  ornament,  or  flowers : but  tlte 
loveliness  may  now  have  fled  before  the  approach  of  time 
and  rich  colors  have  been  selected  as  the  appropriate 
for  that  middle  age  which  is  so  beautiful  in  English  women 
and  in  English  women  alone. 

After  these  general  remarks,  let  us  come  to  particulars, 
ad  consider  what,  in  modern  days,  are  the  different  dresses 
appropriate  to  every  different  occasion  in  the  higher  and 
middle  classes  of  life.  It  is  true  that  the  distinction  be- 
tween these  is,  in  many  respects,  nullified ; that  the  wife 
cf  the  merchant  dresses  much  in  the  same  way  on  ordinary 
occasions  as  the  peeress : still  there  are  nevertheless  dis- 
tinctions. 

The  peeress,  or  the  baronet’s  lady,  or  the  wife  of  a 
minister,  or  of  an  opulent  M.  P.,  of  a very  wealthy  com- 
moner, should,  when  she  appears  dressed  for  the  morning, 
be  richly  dressed.  Silk,  or,  if  in  winter,  some  materia] 
trimmed  with  silk  or  velvet,  should  compose  her  dress. 
All  that  family  of  half- worsted  and  half-silk  dresses,  con- 
venient for  ladies  who  walk  much,  are  unsuitable  to  mat- 
rons of  rank  and  fortune.  Let  them  leave  them  to  their 
housekeepers  (if  their  housekeepers  will  wear  them). 
Rich  dark  silks,  perfectly  well  fitting,  ample  in  skirt  and 
length,  with  a moderate  bastion  of  crinoline  underneath, 
suit  the  woman  of  rank.  The  basque,  introduced  by  the 
Empress  Eugenie,  and  now  gone  out  of  fashion,  was  pecu- 
liarly elegant  in  morning  dress : is  marked  so  completely 
the  difference  between  the  morning  and  evening  costume ; 
it  is  becoming  to  most  figures ; it  is  convenient  for  those 
who  like  to  fasten  their  own  dresses.  It  is,  however,  dis- 
9 


194 


LADY'S  DRESS. 


continued,  and  a far  less  elegant  form  of  dress  adopted 
The  morning  dress  of  the  present  day  is  worn  close  up 
to  the  throat  and  the  sleeves  are  loose  and  large ; so  that 
anderneath  them,  sleeves,  richly  w^orked,  or  trimmed  with 
aiee.  may  be  seen  hanging  down,  or  fiistened  round  the 
^rist  with  a bracelet.  The  fashion  of  these  morning 
iresses  varies  continually ; but,  as  a general  principle, 
they  should  be,  for  a person  moderately  emhonj joint ^ made 
to  fit  and  show  oflf  the  figure  perfectly.  The  accompani- 
ments of  sleeves,  collars,  should  be  of  the  most  delicate 
and  richest  work ; the  lace  choice ; the  lady  of  rank  must 
remember  that  imitations  of  lace  are  not  suitable  to  those 
who  can  encourage  art  and  industry ; a lady  must  also  be 
bien  chaussee.  If  stockings  are  visible,  they  should  be 
of  the  finest  silk  or  thread ; the  shoe  well  made,  slight, 
and  somewhat  trimmed ; the  fashion  of  wearing  gloves  in- 
doors, or  even  mittens,  has  much  died  away  lately.  The 
hand,  if  exposed,  should  be  habitually  well  taken  care  of 
Nothing  is  so  unlady-like  as  a hand  that  is  either  rough, 
or  has  become  sun-burnt,  in  which  case  gloves  should  be 
used.  Too  many  rings  are  vulgar.  Those  tvorn  in  the 
morning  should  be  of  a solid  kind,  not  pearls  or  diamonds 
which  appertain  to  full  dress ; but  enamel,  plain  gold,  opal 
perhaps  sapphire,  carbuncle,  may  not  be  inconsistent  witli 
morning  dress,  and  the  same  observation  may  be  applied 
to  the  brooch. 

There  is  another  style  of  morning  dress  which  is  elo- 
gaui,  that  of  the  'peignoir^  a loose  robe,  which  admits  of 
great  richness  of  texture ; it  may  be  of  Cashmere  or  of 
fine  Merino  ; it  may  be  made  out  of  a shawl ; of  anything 
but  silk,  which  is  more  appropriate  to  gowns  ; but  this 
dress  is  sc^ircely  suitable  to  any  but  the  early  morning 


MORNING  DRESS. 


ltd 

hours,  and  ceases  to  be  consistent  in  the  gay  nfternocns  of 
a London  life,  when  the  drawing-room  is  filled  with  callers 

The  morning  coifiure,  be  it  a cap,  or  be  it  the  dressing 
of  the  hair,  should  be  simple,  compact,  neat.  The  bajr. 
when  dressed,  should  be  becomingly  but  somewhat  mas 
sively  disposed.  When  it  is  rich  and  full,  a very  slight 
head-dress  of  Mechlin  or  Lisle  lace,  for  married  women, 
at  the  back  of  the  head,  is  becoming ; when  thin  and  w’eak, 
a cap  should  be  worn  with  ribbon  coming  down  in  front 
Nothing  looks  so  bad  as  thin  hair,  underneath  which  the 
head  is  discernible  in  the  day-time.  Every  ornament  on 
the  head  is  in  bad  taste  in  the  morning ; one  views  with 
horror  huge  gold  pins,  or  would-be  gold,  corresponding  to 
ear-rings  of  the  same  false  description.  The  peril  of  being 
induced  to  wear  ornaments  so  meretricious,  is,  however, 
more  to  be  dreaded  in  that  class  of  society  below  the  peeress’s 
rank,  with  which  it  is  particularly  inconsistent.  The 
French  ladies  are  models  of  dress  w^hen  they  hold  their 
morning  receptions.  Everything  they  wear  is  the  best  of 
its  kind.  The  few  ornaments  they  permit  themselves  are 
more  elaborate  and  valuable  than  dazzling,  everything  an- 
nouncing, as  plainly  as  if  it  had  been  written  on  their 
doors,  that  they  are  in  demie  toilette.  The  perfect  agree- 
ment of  their  dress  with  the  hour  and  the  occasion,  is  the 
secret  of  its  almost  invariable  success. 

The  same  rules  apply  to  walking  dress,  which  should  be 
juiet  in  color,  simple,  substantial,  and,  above  all,  founded 
on  the  science  of  combination.  To  see  a bonnet  adorned 
with  crimson  flowers,  worn  with  a bright  lilac  dress  ; green 
with  scarlet,  blue  with  plum,  are  sad  departures  from  tlie 
rules  of  combination.  In  a town,  even  when,  according 
to  the  time  of  the  day,  or  time  of  the  year,  a walki}»g 


LADY'S  DRESS. 


drea®  be  simple,  there  should  still  be  some  degree 

of  rk  li'^iess  in  the  dress. 

The  ^tyy  dowdy  and  common-looking  style  of  dres? 
should  bv'  avoided  ; there  should  always  be  visible,  through 
3>ery  chaxige,  the  lady.  Some  of  our  ladies  of  rank,  il 
liust  be  allowed,  though  maintaining  well  the  cliaracteris* 
dcs  of  grandK'^  dames  in  society,  are  negligent  in  theii 
walking  dress,  tind  seem  to  consider  that  it  is  only  neces- 
sary to  put  on  th-OT  dignity  when  they  dress  for  dinner. 

For  the  countr'y,  the  attire  should  be  tasteful  and  solid 
and  strong.  The  b'^Anet  may  still,  though  plain,  and  per- 
haps of  straw  or  wHlebone,  be  becoming.  The  hat,  now 
so  prevalently  used,  admits  of  some  decoration,  that  gives 
both  character  and  elegance.  Worn  almost  universally  on 
the  Continent  in  summer,  and  now  in  England,  it  is  the 
most  sensible  as  well  as  the  most  picturesque  covering  for 
the  head ; long  feathers,  even  in  the  most  tranquil  scenes, 
are  not  inappropriate.  Cloaks,  of  a light  material  for  sum- 
mer, and  stout  in  the  winter,  are  more  elegant  and  suita- 
Dle  than  shawls,  which  belong  rather  to  the  carriage  or 
visiting  dress.  One  point  of  dress  has  been  much  amend- 
ed lately,  owing  to  the  good  sense  of  our  Queen.  It  was 
formerly  thought  ungenteel  to  wear  anything  but  thin 
Morocco  shoes,  or  very  slight  boots  in  walking  Clogs 
and  goloshes  were  necessarily  resorted  to.  The  genteel 
disease,”  as  Mackenzie  calls  it,  has,  however,  yielded  fo 
the  remedies  of  example.  Victoria  has  assumed  the  Bal 
moral  petticoat,  than  which,  for  health,  comfort,  warmth 
and  effect,  no  invention  was  ever  better.  She  has  coura- 
geously accompanied  it  with  the  Balmoral  boot,  and  even 
with  the  mohair  and  colored  stocking.  With  these,  and 
the  warm  cloak,  the  looped  dresses,  the  shady  hat,  and,  to 


FULL  DINNEK  DREyb. 


cojiplete  a country  walking  dress,  soft  gloves  ol  tlie  kind 
termed  ganls  de  si  cle^  the  high  born  hidy  may  enjoy  the 
privileges  which  her  inferiors  possess — she  may  take  a 
good  walk  with  pleasure  and  safety,  and  not  shiver  at  the 
a^.*pect  of  a muddy  lane. 

Next,  in  the  description  of  a lady’s  dress,  comes  th 
carriage,  or  visiting  divss.  This  should  be  exceedingly 
handsome ; gayer  in  color,  richer  in  texture  than  tlie 
morning  dress  at  home.  The  bonnet  may  either  be  as 
simple  as  possible,  or  as  rich  ; but  it  must  not  encroach 
upon  that  to  be  worn  at  a fete,  a flower-show,  or  a morn- 
ing concert.  It  must  still  be  what  the  French  call  “ un 
f^Mapeaii  de  fatigue,^ ^ A really  good  shawl,  or  a mantle 
Vfimraed  wdth  lace,  are  the  concomitants  of  the  carriage,  or 
a visiting  dress  in  wdnter.  In  summer  all  should  be  light, 
:ool,  agreeable  to  think  of,  pleasant  to  look  at.  Nothing 
can  be  in  worse  taste  than  to  keep  on,  till  it  makes  one 
feverish  to  look  at  it,  the  w^arm  clothing  of  winter  after 
winter  and  even  spring  have  passed  away.  Then  light 
scarfs,  of  which  those  worn  in  muslin  are  very  elegant, 
delicate  muslins,  slight  silks,  and  grenadines,  are  infinite- 
ly more  suitable,  although  they  are  less  expensive,  to  sum- 
mer and  its  bright  hours  than  the  heavy  artillery  of 
cashmeres  and  velvets,  be  they  ever  so  handsome. 

The  ordinary  evening  costume  at  home  admits  of  great 
taste  an  1 becomingness.  In  some  great  houses  it  diffbrn 
little  fiom  that  assumed  at  large  dinner-parties,  except 
that  ornaments  are  less  worn.  In  France,  the  high  ilrosF 
is  still  wmrn  at  dinners,  even  those  of  full  dress.  In  Eng 
land,  that  custom,  often  introduced,  never  becomes  gene 
ral;  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  a low  dress  is  by  far  xnv 
most  becoramg,  according  to  age,*  complexion,  and  the  stgh 


198 


lady’s  dress. 


of  the  house — a point  always  to  be  taken  into  CuOisiJeia 
ticn.  Yet  1 should  restrict  this  to  dinners  by  candle-] ight 
In  summer  a thin  high  dress,  at  any  rate,  is  more  con- 
venient and  more  modest.  Since  there  is  something  in 
exposing  the  bare  shoulders  and  arms  to  the  glare  of  day. 
that  startles  an  observer,  the  demie  toilette  of  the  French 
may  here  be  well  applied.  The  hair  should  now  be  fully 
dressed,  and  with  care  ; flowers  may  be  worn  by  the 
young ; caps  with  flolvers  by  the  elder ; ornaments,  espe- 
cially bracelets,  are  not  inconsistent ; the  dress  should  be 
of  a texture  that  can  beai  inspection,  not  flimsy  and  inex- 
pensive, but  good,  though  not  heavy.  The  same  rules 
may  be  applied  to  the  ordinary  costume  in  an  evening  at 
home,  except  that  the  texture  may  be  lighter.  For  all 
these  occasions  a lady  of  rank  and  fortune  should  have 
her  separate  dresses.  She  should  not  wear  out  her  old 
ball  or  dinner  dresses  by  her  fireside  and  in  intimate  cir- 
cles. They  always  have  a tawdry,  miserable  look.  She 
should  furnish  herself  with  a good  provision  for  the  demie 
toilette.  Nothing  is  so  vulgar  as  finery  out  of  place. 

The  full  dinner-dress,  in  England,  admits,  and  indeed, 
in  the  present  days  of  luxury,  demands  great  splendor. 
The  dress  may  be  blue,  silver-grey,  crimson,  maize,  lav- 
ender, or  (but  rare)  very  pale  green;  pink  is  suitable 
alone  to  balls ; it  may  be  of  any  thick  texture  of  silk  in 
vogue  ; but  in  the  fashion  it  must  be.  The  dinner  dresses 
that  last  for  ever  are  detestable.  Trimmings  of  Srussek 
lace,  or  of  Mechlin,  or  of  Maltese,  are  preferable  to  blonde 
or  tulle,  which  are  for  balls  and  soirees.  The  dress  should 
be  made  in  the  newest  fashion  ; therefore  no  rule  can  be 
set  down,  except  that  for  sta^e  dinners  it  should  be  long, 
j^nd  fresh,  and  sweeping.  At  large  dinners,  diainondsf 


FULL  DINNER  DRESS. 


198 


may  be  worn,  but  only  in  a brooch,  or  pendail  A*om  the 
throat ; a full  suite  of  diamonds  is  suitable  to  V'ery  full 
dress  alone.  The  same  rule  applies  to  emeraldSj  but  not 
to  jearls.  Rows  of  pearls,  confined  by  a diamond  snap, 
ire  beautiful  in  every  dress.  They  suit  either  the  d(/mu 
Ivihtte^  or  the  stately  solemn  dinner.  If  flowers  be  worn 
they  should  be  of  the  very  choicest ; ladies  have  so  much 
'me  to  examine  and  to  criticise  after  dinner,  that  too 
much  care  of  minutise  cannot  be  taken ; if  but  a rose,  it 
should  be  from  the  very  first  hand.  The  fan,  to  be  con- 
sistent, should  also  be  first-rate  ; it  may  be  old,  and  paint- 
ed after  the  manner  of  the  exquisite  fans  in  France,  for 
which  one  pays  as  high  as  twenty  pounds ; or  it  may  be 
a mere  invention  of  the  day ; but  it  must  be  perfect  in 
its  way.  Nothing  is  so  inimical  to  appearance  as  an  ill- 
made  or  soiled  glove.  There  is  such  a wonderful  mixture 
of  economy  and  prodigality  in  the  highest  classes  of  En- 
glish society,  that  it  is  not  uncommon  to  see  ladies,  re- 
splendent in  jewelry,  with  dirty  gloves  : in  France,  to 
which  we  have,  in  all  ages,  looked  as  to  a model,  such  a 
barbarism  could  never  occur.  Every  trifle  in  a lady’s 
costume  is  perfect.  She  would  rather  go  out  in  a shabby 
gown  than  in  a collar  of  false  lace,  or  with  dirty  gloves, 
or  begrimed  white  satin  shoes.  It  is  not  so  in  England  ; 
ladies  who  spend  pounds  upon  a cap  or  a scarf,  will  hesi- 
tate before  they  put  on  a clean  pair  of  gloves.  Dinner 
parties  are  so  often  the  prelude  only,  in  London,  to  thd 
festivities  of  the  evening,  that  no  strict  rules  as  to  dress 
can  be  set  down.  Generally  speaking,  there  is  a great 
difference  between  the  dinner-dress  and  that  of  the  balk 
A concert,  on  the  other  hand,  or  the  opera,  requires  only 
the  head  to  be  somewhat  more  adorned  than  at  a dinner 


200 


LADY  S DRESS. 


and  yet  there  was  a fashion,  several  years  since,  of  ap* 
pearing  even  at  the  Italian  opera  in  the  simple  toilette  of 
a small  dinner  partje  The  sortie  du  bul^  or  short  i-vo 
ning  cloak,  is  one  of  the  best  modern  suggestions  for  tlji; 
health,  and  even  appearance;  of  those  who  attend  public 
places  or  enter  into  gay  society.  It  should  be  of  wdiite 
merino,  not  of  scarlet,  which  spoils  the  effect  of  the  WTeath 
of  flowers.  All  complicated  trimmings  are  inconsistent ; 
but  the  same  rule  of  perfect  freshness  and  cleanliness  in 
respect  to  gloves  is  applicable  to  the  sortie  du  baL  I am 
sorry  to  say  it  is  violated  every  night : rows  of  ladies  are 
to  be  seen  wdth  resplendent  gems  in  their  hair,  waiting  for 
their  carriages,  in  sorties  du  bal  that  are  almost  gray  from 
the  effects  of  London  smoke.  The  striking  relief  and  the 
contrast  produced  by  one  or  two  clean  and  fresh  cloaks  of 
this  description  is  quite  singular,  and  proves  the  truth  of 
che  above  recommendation.  And  here  let  us  marvel 
against  the  wonderful  misplaced  economy  that  will  not 
permit  an  English  lady  to  indulge  in  a new  soj'tie  du  bal 
“ this  season,”  whilst  she  is,  at  the  same  time,  lavishing 
Bufias  upon  all  the  endless  et  ceteras  which  Englishwomen 
of  the  nineteenth  century  cannot  do  without. 

At  one  of  the  most  brilliant  balls  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville 
in  Paris,  an  order  was  given  for  the  company,  who  were 
to  be  numbered  on  that  occasion  by  thousands,  to  wait  in 
relays  on  the  grand  staircase  leading  to  the  recepti(  ii 
corns,  until  a certain  hour  of  the  night  or  rather  mom 
mg.  This  order  was  to  prevent  a rush  to  the  carriages 
and  the  danger  incident  to  such  a concourse  wdshing  ti 
leave  at  the  same  time.  The  ladies  sat  for  an  hour  ci 
more  on  that  ample  and  matchless  staircase,  to  the  right 
^f  which  was  the  artificial  pool  of  water,  surr(»unded  bj 


BALL  DRESSING 


20 


plants,  anl  lighted  by  lamps,  amid  Tvhich  the  spray  of  a 
fountain  cast  up  crystal  drops,  which  fell  dimpling  ink 
the  w^atei  again.  The  light  played  upon  the  white  cup 
of  a large  water-lily  in  the  miniature  pool,  and  the  scene 
was  at  once  remarkable  and  brilliant.  As  1 looked  around 
fr(-m  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  and  about,  I could  see  many 
pale  and  weary  faces,  but  not  one  dirty  sortie  du  hal . 
all  here  as  fresh,  as  clear,  as  snowy  white  as  if  new  only 
that  day ; some  lined  with  cherry  color ; others  with  blue ; 
a few  with  amber ; most  with  white.  Even  after  all  the 
festivities  were  over,  a Frenchwoman,  if  she  could  not 
look  well,  w^as  resolved  to  look  clean. 

Ball-dressing  requires  less  art  than  the  nice  gradations 
of  costume  in  the  dinner  costume,  and  small  evening  party 
dress.  For  a ball,  everything  even  in  married  women 
may  be  light,  somewhat  fanciful  and  airy.  What  arc 
called  good  dresses  seldom  look  well.  The  heavy,  richly- 
trimmed  silk,  is  only  appropriate  to  those  who  do  not  dance  ; 
even  for  such,  as  much  effect  should  be  given  to  those 
dresses  as  can  be  devised.  Taste,  ingenuity,  style^  are 
here  most  requisite.  Since  the  fa’shions  continually  al- 
ter, there  is  no  possibility  of  laying  down  specific  rules  ; 
the  dress,  however,  for  the  married,  and  for  the  unmar- 
ried lady  of  rank  or  of  fortune,  should  be  distinctly  mark- 
ed. For  the  married  lady  moiri  dresses,  either  trimmed 
with  lace,  or  tulle  and  flo  vers,  or  white  silk — no  othei 
color  in  plain  silk  looks  well — or  thin  dresses  over  white 
satin,  an  article  which  is  happily  coming  into  fashioi 
3gain,  are  most  suitable.  Diamonds  on  the  head  neck 
arms,  she  may  wear ; but  the  decoration  of  the  dress  with 
them  slmuld  be  reserved  for  court-balls,  and  for  court 
Formerly,  when  diamonds  were  worn,  flowers  were  eithe/ 
9* 


202 


lady’s  dress. 


considered  unnecessary,  or  even  inconsistent;  no’w  tUej 
are  frequently  intermingled.  Small  feathers  are  eves 
worn  at  balls;  and,  for  the  married,  produce  peihapi 
more  effect  than  any  other  coiffure  ; but  they  are  wholiv 
0ut  of  fashion  on  a young  lady’s  head.  The  unmarried, 
indeed,  so  long  as  they  continue  young,  will  best  consul 
their  own  good  looks  by  as  much  simplicity  as  is  consist 
ent  with  fashion.  In  Paris  no  ornaments,  Avith  the  ex- 
ception, perhaps,  of  a single  bracelet,  are  allowed  to  the 
ieum  fille  ; her  dress  must  be  white  ; the  flowers  in  her 
Uair  Avhite  also.  To  these  general  rules  there  are  excep- 
tions, but  the  appearance  of  a French  ball  is  that  of  spot- 
less white ; far  different  to  the  full  colors  often  worn  in 
England. 

White  tulle  over  white  silk  (or  white  lace),  and  bou 
qaets  of  floAvers,  corresponding  to  the  guirlaude  or 
chepenie  on  the  head,  are  the  favorite  dress  of  the  young 
lady.  A parure  of  floAvers,  consisting  of  tAvo  flowers 
mingled,  is  elegant ; for  instance,  the  rose  and  heliotrope, 
the  parure  forming  the  Avreath  Avhich  extends  down  the 
skirt ; or,  of*  Avhite  flotvers,  the  acacia, — of  blue,  the  my- 
osotis, — of  green,  the  maidenhair  fern  ; these  are  all  ex- 
quisite ornaments.  Even  the  large  white  lily  forms  a 
beautiful  parure.  The  French  ahvays  make  use  of  the 
floAv^ers  in  season,  but  Ave  English  are  less  scrupulous.  A 
young  lady  vail  Avear  a wreath  of  lilies  of  the  val’ey  mixed 
with  roses,  in  the  depth  of  the  winter;  holly  and  berries 
in  June;  scarlet  geraniums  in  spring.  Large  daisies  are 
ai3o  liable  to  suggest  ludicrous  ideas.  That  lady’s  dress 
wants  mowing,”  said  a A\*ag,  looking  at  a beiutiful  cdlU 
dress,  covered  Avith  white  daisies  with  flaring  yellow  cea* 
tres. 


THE  HEAD-DBESS. 


2oa 


Nothing,  however,  forms  a more  beautifui  Lead-dress 
tlian  natural  flowers,  carefully  mounted.  The  French 
fiaye  a great  art  of  mounting  flowers  on  wire,  and  many 
of  their  ladies’ -maids  learn  it ; some  of  the  ladies  excel  in 
it  themselves.  For  country  balls  and  fetes^  the  effect  m 
lovely  • and  the  perpetual  variety  obtained  a source  of  that 
surprise  and  novelty  which  add  so  much  to  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  dress.  The  flowers  should  be  neatly  and  firmly 
stuck  upon  wires.  Variegated  geraniums,  and  all  the  white 
varieties  only,  answer  well ; white  camellias  (the  red  are 
too  heavy),  parti-colored  carnations,  the  rose  Devoniensis, 
large  white  lilies,  are  all  suitable  to  hairs  of  various  shades. 
A.  pariire  of  ivy  is  elegant — but  it  has  become  common  ; 
in  spring,  the  scarlet  ranunculus  has  a rich  effect ; in  win- 
ter, the  hellebore  or  Christmas  rose  is  very  appropriate. 
There  is  one  of  the  carnival  balls  at  Munich,  in  which  the 
custom  of  'wearing  natural  flow^ers  is  almost  des  rigueiirs ; 
it  is  on  Shrove-Tuesday.  Since  in  that  severe  climate  it 
is  difficult  to  obtain  natural  flow^ers  in  perfection,  the 
wreaths  are  ordered  in  Paris,  and  are  articles  of  great  ex- 
pense. On  seeing  them  beside  even  the  moat  exquisite  ar- 
tificial wreaths,  the  effect  is  striking ; every  tint  in  the 
latter  has  a want  of  that  transparency  which,  in  the  nat- 
ural flowers,  is  O'wing  to  the  minute  and  almost  invisible 
globules  of  water  in  the  petals  beneath  the  cuticle.  The 
richest  hues  pall  before  the  inimitable  coloring  of  nature 
Amongst  the  garnitures  on  one  occasion,  that  of  the  Queen 
of  Bavaria  was  pre-eminently  beautiful.  She  woie  on  her 
head  a wreatn  of  natural  roses;  in  the  centr:  of  each  rose 
hung  a diamond  dew-drop.  Her  dress  was  white,  trimmed 
down  on  either  side  with  single  roses,  encircled  with  9 
single  row  of  diamonds  each,  as  if  the  dew  hung  round 


204 


lady’s  dress. 


the  pe  tals ; in  the  centre  was  the  diamond-dew  drop.  This 
beloved  and  beautiful  princess,  now,  by  marriage,  the  first 
cousin  of  the  Princess  Royal  of  England,  always  super- 
intends the  arrangements  of  her  own  ball  dresses,  hei 
histo  is  exquisite,  and  the  ingenuity  with  which  she  ^ariei* 
her  costumes  is  remarkable. 

As  ladies  advance  in  life,  the  ball-room  seems  scarcely 
to  be  their  province ; but  since  many  of  them  are  obliged 
to  be  chaperons,  the  style  of  dress  most  becoming  person- 
ally and  also  most  consistent  with  that  character,  should 
be  considered.  Many  persons  think  that  it  little  matters 
what  a middle-aged  lady  w^ears,  so  long  as  she  looks  neat 
and  respectable,  and  displays  a sufficient  amount  of  expen- 
sive lace,  diamonds,  and  so  many  ells  of  unexceptionable 
silk  or  satin.  I am  not  of  that  opinion  ; as  long  as  a face 
is  a face  fit  to  present  itself  to  society,  so  long  should 
good  taste  carefully  preserve  the  fast-fading  attractions, 
not,  by  art  and  cosmetics,  or  false  curls,  or  roses  round  a 
sallow  brow,  or  the  lilies  of  the  field,  which  are  appropri- 
ate to  youth  alone,  but  by  an  arrangement  of  cap  or  head- 
dress that  is  becoming  to  the  poor  old  ruins ; just  as  we 
like  to  see  the  mantling  ivy  clustering,  and  say  how  greatly 
d adds  to  the  beauty  of  the  old  devastated  fort  or  chapel. 

Under  the  head  of  festive  occasions^  the  court  dress 
must  not  bo  admitted. 

This  costume  consists,  first,  of  an  entire  dress,  gener- 
ally made  of  some  plain  but  costly  silk. 

^ The  dress,  therefore, ‘forms  one  component  part;  next 
comes  die  petticoat,  usually  of  some  lighter  material ; and 
ifvstly,  the  train. 

The  dress  is  made,  even  for  elderly  ladies,  low  ; and  the 
boddice  is  trimmed  in  accordance  with  the  petticoat  and 
the  train. 


COURT-DRESS. 


205 


The  petticoat  is  now  usually  formed  of  rich  Brussels 
lace,  or  of  Honiton  lace,  or  tulle;  and  often  looped  uj 
with  flowers. 

Ibe  train  is  of  the*  richest  material  of  the  whole  dress 
F ormerly  it  was  often  of  satin  ; now  it  is  of  moire  or  glact 
ilk,  though  satin  is  again  beginning  to  be  worn. 

It  fastens  half  round  the  waist,  and  is  about  seven  yards 
in  length,  and  wide  in  proportion.  It  is  trimmed  all 
round  with  lace,  in  festoons,  or  on  the  edge,  with  bunches 
of  flowers  at  intervals,  and  is  lined  usually  with  white 
silk. 

The  petticoat  is  ornamented  with  the  same  lace  as  the 
train,  sometimes  in  flounces,  sometimes  in  puffings  oi 
botiffons  of  tulle,  sometimes  en  tahlier.  that  is,  down  either 
side. 

The  boddice  and  sleeves  are  all  made  in  strict  unifor- 
mity with  the  train  and  petticoat. 

The  head-dress  consists  of  feathers,  and  comprises  a* 
lappet  of  lace,  hanging  from  either  side  of  the  head  down 
nearly  to  the  tip  of  the  boddice.  Diamonds  or  pearls,  or 
any  other  je^velry  sufficiently  handsome,  may  be  worn  in 
the  hair,  but  the  two  former  are  most  frequently  adopted. 
The  same  ornaments  should  be  worn  on  the  boddice  around 
the  neck  and  arms. 

The  shoes  should  be  of  white  satin,  and  trimmed  ac- 
cording to  fashion.  The  fan  should  be  strictly  a dresa 
fan ; those  spangled  are  the  most  suitable  for  a costume 
which  requires  everything  to  be  as  consistent  as  possible 
with  the  occasion. 

Having  thus  treated  of  the  drosses  suited  to  the  house 
and  to  all  festive  occasions,  icmAiUn:  <^Iy  the  rMing 
dreap  to  cientioh. 


*:06 


LADY  S DUESS. 


In  this  particular  several  changes  have  been  made  during 
the  last  two  or  three  years.  The  round  hat,  of  masculine 
appearance,  is  almost  always  exchanged  for  a slouched  hat, 
eometimes  of  a round  form,  and  turned  up  round  the  brim 
— sometimes  turned  up  on  either  side,  and  coming  with  s 
point  low  down  upon  the  forehead — and  sometimes  three* 
cornered  : all  these  different  forms  have  their  votaries ; 
but  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  more  simple  and 
modest  the  shape,  the  more  becoming. 

Formerly,  the  neat  round  hat,  masculine  in  its  form, 
was  unembellished  by  even  a bow  ; but  now,  a long,  sweep- 
ing feather  on  one,  and  sometimes  on  both  sides,  sets  off 
the  riding-hat.  The  color  of  the  feather  is  varied,  but  is 
usually  black  or  brown,  like  the  hat.  The  feather,  it  may 
here  be  remarked,  should  be  full,  well-curled,  long  and 
firm,  not  thin  and  weak,  as  if  taken  from  an  ostrich  in  a 
moulting  condition.  In  winter,  the  hat  should  be  of  felt 
of  a soft  kind,  pliable  and  durable  ; in  summer,  of  a fine 
straw.  It  is  not  wise  to  get  a hat  made  by  an  inferior 
hand.  The  style  constitutes  the  grace,  and  renders  it 
either  a most  becoming  or  a most  tawdry  feature  in  the 
riding-dress.  And  here  let  us  remark  on  the  great  benefit 
of  these  slouching  hats  to  the  complexions  which  have  so 
materially  suffered  of  late  years  from  small  bonnets  and 
round  hats.  Health,  with  delicacy^  is  the  true  charm  of 
kminmo  physique,  and,  as  far  as  a riding  costume  is  con-* 
corned,  nothing  secures  the  freshness  of  the  face  better 
Ijan  the  slouched  hat.  It  is  cool,  and  permits  the  free 
circulation  of  air  around  the  face,  while  it  protects  tne 
eyes,  the  forehead,  and  almost  the  chin,  from  scorching 
lioat  or  withering  blasts. 

^iual  ly.  as  far  as  regards  hats,  let  a hint  be  thrown  out 


RIDING-DRESS. 


207 


repressing  the  eccentricities  of  a fantastic  taste : The  art 
of  riding  is  in  itself  conspicuous  enough,  A ladj  decked 
out  in  that  position  approaches  the  mountebank  ridei  from 
Astley’s  or  Franconi’s.  Her  costume  may  be  elegant  on 
ill  occasions  without  being  outre,.  The  moment  her  taste 
Jegenerates  so  as  to  produce  a striking  effect,  she  may  b 
sine  she  is  making  a mistake,  and  nowhere  so  fatally  as  on 
horseback. 

We  must  acknowledge  that  the  change  in  riding-hats 
has  another  good  effect.  The  lady  equestrian  cannot  now 
be  called  masculine.  Bist  ein  Mann  oder  eine  Mad- 
Bchen  ?”  cried  out  a number  of  little  Rhenish  boys  as  a 
young  lady  galloped  through  a village  near  Diisseldorf. 
The  Spectator  has  a sharp  article  on  the  ambiguous  ap- 
pearances of  these  Amazons,  as  he  styles  them ; and  in 
fact  in  the  last  century,  when  scarlet  riding-habits  were 
often  worn,  it  must  have  been  difScult  on  the  riding-field 
to  have  distinguished  a lady  from  a gentleman ; but  now 
there  is  something  picturesque,  stylish,  and  inconsistent  in 
the  modern  slouching  hat,  the  sweeping  feather,  and  be- 
neath them  the  rich  clusters  of  hair  bagged,  and  so  con- 
fined in  a net  of  black  chenille. 

The  habit  has  sustained  some  changes,  and,  as  far  as  ap- 
pearance is  concerned,  not  for  the  becter.  It  used  to  be 
invariably  tight,  well-shaped,  with  close  sleeves.  It  is  now 
often  made  loose,  with  deep  cuffs,  or,  if  worn  tight,  a loose 
jacket,  or  casaque^  can  be  put  over  it — an  advantage  in 
cold  weather,  but  certainly  not  to  the  figure,  which  is 
never  seen  to  more  advantage,  be  it  bad  or  good,  than  iii 
a tight  body,  such  as  the  old  riding-habit.  A plain  wliite 
collar  of  fine  lawn  should  be  worn  with  the  habit,  deep  lawn 
cuffs  underneath  the  sleeves,  while  gauntlet  gloves  of  thick 


208 


lady's  dress. 


leather,  and  no  ornaments,  save  perhaps  a delicately-twined 
whip,  need  be  displayed.  Compactness  and  utility  are  the 
requisites  for  the  riding-dress ; and,  whilst  touching  on 
this  point,  let  us  impress  strongly  the  danger  arising  from 
00  long  a skirt  in  the  riding-habit : it  is  apt  not  cnly  to 
alarm  horses,  but  tor  entangle,  in  case  of  accidents,  theil 
fair  riders. 

There,  as  in  other  cases,  the  principle  of  all  that  relates 
• to  dress  should  be  consistency  and  suitableness.  If  these 
are  once  lost  sight  of — if  fifty  apes  fifteen — if  the  countess 
t^resses  worse  than  her  own  housekeeper,  or  the  maid  vies 
ffith  her  mistress — if  modest  middle  rank  puts  on  the 
garb  of  fashion — if  good  tasie  and  good  sense  cease  to  be 
the  foundation  of  the  importani  whole,  then  all  special  di- 
rections will  be  unavailing. 


CHAPTER  V 


ACCOMPLISHMEIsTS 

Lord  Byron  in  one  of  his  letters  tells  us  that  be  Liigil 
have  been  a beau,  if  he  had  chosen  to  drink  deep  and 
gamble  fast  enough.  In  Ben  Johnson’s  time  the  main  points 
of  a compleat  gentleman”  were  to  swear  a new  oath  in 
every  sentence,  ‘‘  By  the  foot  of  Pharaoh,”  As  I am  a 
gentleman  and  a soldier,”  and  so  forth;  to  take  tobacco, 
and  swear  over  its  virtues ; to  be  able  to  run  friend  or  foe 
through  the  heart  with  a bodkin ; and  to  write  a copy  of 
silly  verses  to  a by  no  means  inaccessible  mistress.  Beau 
Brummell  had  only  three  pet  points  : the  way  he  toot 
BnuflF,  opening  the  box  with  one  hand,  the  ease  with  which 
he  cut  an  old  acquaintance,  and  the  grace  with  which  he 
bowed  to  a new  one.  Lord  Chesterfield  seems  to  think 
that  if  a man  can  ride,  fence,  and  dance  well,  he  is  skilled 
enough  for  good  society.  The  three  requirements  are 
worth  noticing.  The  first  was  es">ential,  if  you  would  have 
male  friends,  in  days  when  knighthood  was  not  quite  a 
shadow ; the  second  allowed  you  to  make  good  enemies, 
and  kill  or  keep  them ; the  third  fitted  you  for  the  society 
of  women. 

The  accomplishments  of  to-day,  though  they  differ  it 
many  respects,  have  the  same  general  bearing.  In  a mai 
they  are  the  arts  required  to  keep  a friend,  to  make  ax 
enemy,  and  to  charm  a woman  ; in  a woman,  to  surpass  a 
rival  and  to  captivate  a man  of  more  taste  than  heart 
For  botl,,  however,  they  have  a far  higher  object,  that 

(209^ 


no 


ACCOMPLISHMEN  IS. 


namely,  of  giving  pleasure  to  our-fellow  creatures  in  seme 
form  or  other,  and  of  increasing  the  general  harmony  of 
society.  They  are  in  fact  those  corollaries  to  the  probleir 
of  education,  by  which  a person  is  fitted  not  only  to  pass/ 
out  tc  take  honors’’  in  the  social  examination.  While 
it  is  impossible  to  deny  that  a man  may  be  a perfect  gen* 
tinman,  a woman  a well-bred  lady,  and  both  of  them 
agreeable  in  society,  without  a single  accomplishment,  we 
all  of  us  feel  that  such  a person  must  either  possess  nc 
usual  wit,  like  Dr.  Johnson,  who  had  not  one  accomplish- 
ment to  add  to  his  sound  sense  ,and  learning,  or  be  one 
who,  content  to  fill  a quiet  corner  in  life,  does  not  care  tc 
emerge  from  it  even  for  the  benefit  of  others. 

Accomplishments  have  a heavy  run  against  them  in  the 
present  day,  and  are  decidedly  at  a discount.  Give  me,’’ 
cries  Paterfamilias,  bringing  his  fist  with  a heavy  thump 
lown  on  the  table,  give  me  good  sterling  practical  know- 
ledge, and  none  of  your  pishty-wishty  humbugging  accom- 
plishments.” Paterfamilias,  you  err,  like  many  a British 
father,  and  in  your  love  of  the  practical,  you  are  blind  to 
the  immense  advantage  of  cultivating  the  beautiful  in 
every  young  soul.  Paterfamilias,  to  take  the  most  serious 
ground  with  you,  it  is  the  practical  which  shall  lead  you 
to  money  bags  and  account  books,  but  the  beautiful  which 
shall  guide  you  towards  heaven.  These  same  accomplish- 
ments at  which  you  sneer  have  a much  deeper  meaning  and 
value  for  your  children  than  merely  to  shine  in  society 
They  constitute  the  whole  amateurship  of  art,  and  in  the 
present  day  to  be  thoroughly  accomplished  is  to  be  half 
an  artist ; yet  the  better  half.  You  may  not  be  able  tc 
give  a concert  in  Hanover  Square  Booms,  but  you  have 
cultivated  the  music  that  lies  within  your  soul.  And  tl:  ere 


THEIR  REAL  VALUE. 


211 


is  music  in  every  soul,  and  music  is  the  most  bcautifxil  ex- 
pression of  peace  and  harmony ; and  harmony  is  the  most 
beautiful  law  of  nature,  of  creation,  the  first  rule  of 
God  You  may  not  be  able  to  exhibit  a picture  in  th# 
R'^yal  Academy,  but  you  have  learned  to  copy  God^ 
work,  and  learning  to  copy  you  have  learned  to  observe 
and  to  know ; and  to  know  God’s  work,  is  to  know  God  in 
His  work.  Believe  me,  Paterfamilias,  the  study  of  art 
rightly  undertaken  is  the  study  of  God,  and  it  is  by  cul- 
tivating the  beautiful  that  you  approach  heaven. 

I do  not  say  that  every  man  can  be  a Crichton,  but  I 
do  say  that  every  man  should  aim  at  that  character  in 
some  way,  both  for  his  own  sake  and  that  of  those  around 
him.  How  much  more  so  a woman,  whose  very  mission  is 
to  make  life  less  burdensome  to  man,  to  soothe  and  comfort 
him,  to  raise  him  from  his  petty  cares  to  happier  thoughts, 
CO  purer  imaginings,  towards  heaven  itself. 

At  first  sight  accomplishments  seem  to  belong/,  to  women 
more  than  to  men,  but  if  w'e  look  more  close//  into  the 
subject  we  shall  find  that  a man  has  a doul;/.e  necessity 
upon  him  ; he  must  be  fit,  on  the  one  hand,  f ^r  the  society 
of  men,  on  the  other  for  that  of  women,  and  this  involves 
a double  list  of  acquirements;  while  tho«/^  of  women, 
which  make  then:  charming  to  men,  fit  tt  .'-m  also  for  the 
company  of  their  own  sex. 

Thus  we  must  refuse  in  this  case  the  pln^ce  aux  dames^ 
and  take  the  men  first.  To  mix  com/ortably  with  th 
society  of  his  own  sex  must  be  the  object  to  a man, 
properly  so  called,  and  to  do  this  he  requires  to  know  a 
certain  number  of  arts  which  are  common  among  hvr 
^wn 


212 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


Foremost  of  these  is  the  art  of  self  defence,  whicn  ii 
one  which  society  constantly  calls  irxto  requisition.  For 
tunately  the  duel  is  gone  out  of  fashion,  and  a man  nee  j 
not  now,  as  in  the  days  of  good  Queen  Bess,  come  to  tcwn 
to  learn  how  to  pick  and  take  a quarrel,  and  how  to  get 
well  out  of  it  when  made.  Fencing  in  England  is  lu  w 
nothing  more  than  an  exercise,  no  longer  qualifying  a man 
to  take  his  place  as  a gentleman  among  his  betters ; but 
that  which  has  succeeded  to  it  is  not  without  its  importance 
and  the  ‘‘compleat  gentleman’’  should  be  able  to  use  hia 
lists.  Low  as  this  art  is,  and  contemptible  as  are  those 
who  make  a profession  of  it,  it  is  nevertheless  of  impor- 
tance to  a man  of  every  class,  for  a good  blow  often  solves 
a difiSculty  as  readily  as  Alexander’s  sword  cut  the  Gor- 
dian knot.  There  are  men  whom  nothing  but  a physical 
punishment  will  bring  to  reason,  and  with  these  we  shall 
have  to  deal  at  some  time  of  our  lives.  A lady  is  insulted 
or  annoyed  by  an  unwieldly  bargee,  or  an  importunate  and 
dishonest  cabman.  One  well-dealt  blow  settles  the  whole 
matter.  It  is  true  that  it  is  brutal,  and  certainly  should 
be  a last  resource ; but  to  last  resources  we  are  often  driven, 
and  a show  of  determination  brings  impudence  to  an  ar- 
mistice. 1 would  say,  then,  know  how  to  use  your  fists, 
but  never  use  them  as  long  as  any  other  argument  will 
prevail,  but^  when  all  others  fail,  have  recourse  to  that 
natural  and  certainly  most  convincing  logic.  A man, 
therefore,  whether  he  aspires  to  be  a gentleman  or  not; 
should  learn  to  box.  It  is  a knowledge  easily  gained 
Then  are  but  few  rules  for  it,  and  those  are  suggested  bj 
eommon  sense.  Strike  out,  strike  straight,  strike  sud- 
denly ; keep  one  arm  to  guard,  and  punish  wUh  tlie  other 


BOXING. 


21h 


Two  gentlemen  ne  /ei  fight ; the  art  of  boxing  is  onlj 
brought  into  use  in  punishing  a stronger  and  more  impu 
dent  man  of  a class  beneath  your  own. 

There  is  good  in  everything,  and  there  is  a view  to 
t-i'jkc  of  the  pugilistic  art  which  compensates  in  some  mea- 
sure for  its  brutal  character  in  this  country.  The  fist  has 
expelled  the  sword  and  pistol.  The  former  indeed  went 
out  about  the  beginning  of  last  century,  and  Beau  Nash, 
though  by  no  means  a coward,  did  his  best  to  put  down 
the  wearing  of  a weapon  which  was  a perpetual  temptation 
to  commit  polite  murder  and  disturb  the  harmony  essen- 
tial to  good  society.  There  could  be  no  comfort  and  no 
freedom  in  conversation  when,  instead  of  politely  differing 
with  you,  a man’s  hand  moved  to  his  sword-hilt.  It  is  no 
argument  against  me  that  the  rapier  is  still  worn  at  court, 
tor  I feel  convinced  that  nine-tenths  of  those  ornamental 
but  utterly  useless  appendages  would  never  be  induced  to 
t^uit  their  scabbards,  and,  even  if  drawn,  would  be  of  n.: 
more  value  than  a stick  in  the  hands  of  at  least  nine-tenths 
of  their  courtly  owners. 

But  it  was  another  kind  of  biped  who  put  down  duelling, 
and  a cock-pheasant  of  Wimbledon-Common,  jealous,  no 
doubt,  at  seeing  the  powder  which  ought  to  have  been 
used  for  him,  thrown  away  upon  a human  being,  or  per- 
haps anxious  to  try  whether  a bullet  tasted  better  than 
shot  who  had  the  honor  of  making  these  encounters  so 
superbly  ridiculous,  that  to  call  a man  out  in  the  present 
day  is  equivalent  to  calling  him  a fool  and  confessing  your- 
self idiotic.  There  are  those,  however,  who  re^cret  the 
palmy  days  of  twelve  paces  and  coffee  for  four,  and  tell 
us  that  the  fear  of  a hole  in  the  waistcoat  kept  many  an 
impudent  man  in  his  place  and  restrained  unwarrantable 


214 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS, 


familiarity.  With  all  submission  I would  suggest  that  the 
fear  of  being  knocked  down  on  the  spot,  and  having  his 
beauty  spoiled,  is  likely  to  be  much  more  persuasive  to  a 
man  who  can  offend  in  this  manner.  But  will  you  kindly 
look  across  the  water  either  w^ay,  and  tell  me  if  the  siilj 
custom,  kept  up  both  in  Europe  and  America,  has  there 
the  effect  of  awing  men  into  even  decent  politeness  ? In 
the  latter  country,  especially,  w^here  a ‘^difficulty”  almost 
always  ends  fatally,  it  is  by  no  means  uncommon  for  a 
complete  stranger  to  put  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  cock 
his  eye  at  you,  and  inform  you  by  way  of  introduction, 
“Wall,  I guess  you’re  a tarnation  loggerhead,  yeeou 
aire,”  proceeding  to  pass  comments  on  your  nationality, 
your  personal  appearance,  and  your  general  mental  ca- 
pacities, according  to  the  “guess,”  “reckoning,”  or  “<5al- 
cyoo-lation”  of  the  speaker.  If  you  w^ere  to  meet  these 
with  astonishment,  indignation,  anger,  or,  in  short,  in  any 
way  but  by  the  retort  personal  and  direct  of  the  tu  quoque 
description,  you  would  be  looked  on  as  a disagreeable, 
testy,  and  pugnacious  Britisher,  and  the  rest  of  the  com 
pany  would  probably  request  you  to  “ shut  up.”  In  fad 
so  universal  is  insolence  in  America,  that  even  in  what  is 
where  called  good  society — the  “ up  town”  sets— -you  are 
liable  to  be  assailed  with  the  grossest  epithets,  and  it  is 
only  after  being  bespattered  with  essence  of  Billingsgate 
that  you  would  be  allowed  to  remark,  “ Wall,  that’s  some, 
tjiat  is  ; I reckon  my  dander’s  ris  a bit  after  that.”  Of 
course  these  remarks  do  not  apply  to  New  York,  which 
m civilisation,  is  as  far  in  advance  of  the  States  generally 
as  London  is  of  the  Hebrides. 

It  is  no  longer  necessary,  therefore,  to  give  the  etiouetti 
of  duelling,  which  may  be  gathered,  as  a curiosity,  fix)xi 


FIELD  SPORTS. 


21£ 


ftimost.  every  novel  written  twenty  years  a^o.  It  would 
be  as  sensible  to  give  the  etiquette  of  murder.  As  to  ita 
immorality^  it  has  been  discussed  again  and  again,  and  the 
custom  has  been  finally  condemned  on  that  score. 

Of  course  to  knock  a man  down  is  never  good  manLoriSj 
bu  t there  is  a way  of  doing  it  gracefully,  and  one  ruk 
should  be  observed,  viz.,  whether  you  can  command  your 
temper  or  not,  never  show  it,  except  by  the  blow.  Never 
assail  an  offender  with  words,  nor  when  you  strike  him, 
use  such  expressions  as,  ‘^Take  that,”  &c.  There  are 
cases  in  society  when  it  is  quite  incumbent  on  you  to 
knock  an  offender  dowm,  if  you  whether  you  feel  an- 
gry or  not,  so  that,  if  to  do  so  is  not  precisely  good  man 
uers,  to  omit  it  is  sometimes  very  bad  manners  ; and  to 
box,  and  that  well,  is  therefore  an  important  accomplish- 
ment, particularly  for  little  men. 

It  is  decidedly  a relief  to  quit  that  subject,  and  I am 
not  ambitious  of  emulating  those  gentlemen  of  the  sword 
of  Queen  Elizabeth’s  day,  w^ho,  for  a small  gratuity,  would 
decide  for  you  whether  your  honor  was  hurt  or  not — a 
question  they  usually  contrived  to  answer  in  the  negative 
to  the  great  relief  and  satisfaction  of  the  applicant. 

Our  field  sports  have  been  so  often  and  justly  laudea 
that  I shall  not  now  speak  of  them  in  a constitutional  point 
of  view,  but  their  effect  on  society  is  a matter  of  no  small 
interest,  and  it  is  extremely  agreeable  to  Englishmen  to 
be  reminded  of  points  of  their  superiority  over  their  neigh 
bors.  I am  inclined  to  think  that  our  love  of  sports,  if 
it  spoils  the  London  season,  and  makes  dancing  a tormont, 
does  none  the  less  assist  our  women  to  be  virtuous,  and 
our  men  to  be  noble.  The  effect  of  a want  of  good,  healthy 
out-door  amusements  is  to  make  of  a man  either  a carpet 


216 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


knii^bt,  or  a hanger  about  cafes.  The  life  of  cities  tends 
to  demoralize,  and  anything  which  takes  a man  away 
from  a town  for  a time  has  its  value.  Thus  hunting 
shooting,  riding,  driving,  cricket,  and  sc  forth,  are  as  im 
{A^rtint  elements  of  social  life  as  dancing  and  music,  aivj 
to  be  ignorant  of  their  art  will  not  only  exclude  one  from 
much  charming  society  we  might  sometimes  enjoy,  but 
will  often  cause  us  to  put  others  to  great  inconvenience, 
if  it  does  not  equally  annoy  ourselves.  Often  in  the 
country  there  is  no  other  conveyance  but  a horse  and  sad- 
dle to  be  had.  What  are  we  to  do  if  we  cannot  ride 
Still  oftener  the  whole  arrangement  of  some  party  of 
pleasure  depends  on  our  being  able  to  leave  the  coachmrm 
behind,  and  it  is  to  us,  the  only  gentleman  perhaps,  that  the 
ladies  apply  to  take  his  place.  How,  then,  if  we  cannot 
handle  a whip  ? Then,  too,  in  the  country,  riding  and 
driving  are  such  common  accomplishments,  that  besides 
the  inconvenience,  our  ignorance  of  them  subjects  us  even 
to  ridicule.  What  more  laughable  than  a man  jolted  up 
and  down  on  his  horse,  till  his  hat  slips  to  the  back  of  his 
head,  his  hair  flies  about,  his  trousers  creep  up  co  his 
knees,  and  his  face  expresses  either  pitiable  misery^  or  lu- 
dicrous discomfort  ? On  the  other  hand,  to  hunt,  shoot, 
handle  a bat,  or  a billiard-cue,  thougli  by  no  mes-ns  ex- 
pected of  every  man,  are  often  the  only  amusemerts  ic 
the  country,  and  we  may,  if  ignorant  of  them,  not  only 
be  shut  out  from  them  ourselves,  but  even  oblige  our  nos 
to  give  them  up  on  our  account.  In  fact  the  more  of 
Kuch  accomplishments  you  know,  the  less  tedious  will  yaui 
life  be  to  yuurself  and  your  company  to  others,  and  though 
wit  and  conversation  are  worth  all  the  amusements  wfiich 
a toy-maker  could  dream  of,  yea  must  not  forget  iha* 


RIDINii. 


2i? 

world  is  mainly  peopled  with  fools,  and  that  to  appreciate 
your  sallies,  and  join  in  your  mirth,  requires  an  amoun’i 
of  sense  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  every  country  bump 
kin,  Should  the  weird  sisters,  in  a fit  of  bad  tempci. 
Bend  you  by  express  to  sojourn  for  a month  with  a gen 
tleman  faimer  or  small  hunting  squire,  what  can  you  dc 
but  shoot,  ride,  or  drive  with  him?  Will  your  heavy- 
headed  host,  who  dreams  of  patridges,  and  vacillates  be- 
tween long-horns  and  turnips  in  his  waking  thoughts,  care 
for  your  choice  club-gossip,  understand  your  fine-edged 
wit,  or  thank  you  for  your  political  news  and  Parliamen- 
tary prospects  ? No,  no ; you  must  relate,  slowly  and 
surely,  how  on  such  a day  in  such  a year  you  “ met”  at 
such  a village,  di-^w  ^ such  a cover,  threw  off  in  such 
a direction,  cast*  at  such  a spot,  ran  for  so  many  min- 
utes, and  made  so  many  wonderful,  probably  also  apocry- 
phal, leaps  during  that  period.  Relate  how  many  birds 
you  bagged,  what  score  you  made  at  any  insignificant 
cricket-match,  and  how  you  swam  from  Barnes  to  Brent- 
ford against  tide  and  stream.  Then,  indeed,  is  your  man 
your  friend,  and  he  will  privately  impart  to  his  wife  that 
evening  that  he  thinks  you  ‘‘  an  amazingly  fine  fellow,” 
which  would  have  sounded  very  like  horrid  bore,”  if 
you  had  not  been  able  to  come  out  on  these  subjects. 

1 have  no  intention  to  trespass  on  Mr.  Rarey’s  prov- 
mce,  and  I am  further  of  opinion  that  equitation  cannot, 
like  grammar,  be  learned  from  a book,  but  there  are  a 
few  useful  hints  about  the  etiquette  of  riding,  which  may 
well  be  introduced  here.  The  first  thing,  then,  is  to 
dress  suitably.  Boots  and  cords  were  once  the  sine  qua 
non  of  a horseman,  but  tnough  they  are  very  comforta- 
ble, and  may  still  be  worn  in  the  country,  when  you  aw 
10 


218 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


not  going  to  ride  with  ladies,  they  nave  been  intci dieted 
in  town,  and  would  mark  you  out  as  a riding-master.  On 
the  other  hand,  you  must  avoid  too  fine  a dress^  such  as 
patent  leather  boots,  and  should  wear  a cut-away  in  pre 
feience  to  a frock-coat.  Above  all,  let  the  stick  or  whii 
be  simple,  with  no  gold  head,  no  flummery  about  it.  f oi 
the  country,  you  may  have  what  is  commonly  called  a 
“crop,’’  with  a bone  handle  at  the  end;  for  town  you 
may  take  either  an  ordinary  walking-stick,  or  a gentle- 
man’s riding-whip,  mounted  simply  with  silver.  In  all 
other  respects,  your  dress  should  be  that  in  which  you 
walk.  The  lady’s  dress  has  been  described  in  the  last 
chapter 

A man  who  rides  without  ladies  requires  no  groom  to 
follow  him,  and  a young  man  particularly  should  never 
take  one,  even  though  he  intends  to  make  calls.  A lady, 
on  the  other  band,  should  never  ride  alone,  except  in 
quiet  parts  of  the  country.  In  London  she  would  be 
taken  for  a demoiselle  dii  cirque^  and  in  the  country  she 
would  be  liable  to  accidents,  with  no  one  to  assist  her.  A 
young  lady  should  not  ride  out  without  a gentleman,  ai 
well  as  a groom,  and,  under  most  circumstances,  mamma 
would  decidedly  object  to  that  gentleman  being  young 
and  single,  unless  he  were  a very  intimate  friend. 

Having  thus  arranged  your  dress  and  your  party,  you 
go  down  and  mount — no,  you  do  not  mount  yourself,  but 
m&mt  the  ladies.  There  never  was  so  lame  a legend  as 
that  of  a certain  lady  of  Coventry,  whom  Tennyson  and 
Thomas  the  Inquisitive  have  rendered  celebrated.  01 
course  it  is  very  pretty,  and  we  who  honor  women  as  we 
should  (though  we  burnt  la  Piicelle  d'  Or'U arts'),  and 
have  had  a range  of  noble  ones  from  Boadicea  to  Florence 


MOUNTING  AND  THE  SEAT. 


219 


Nightingale,  can  well  believe  that  Godiva  was  as  modest 
as  she  was  merciful ; but  have  we  ever  asked — who  as- 
sisted her  ? Perhaps  you  will  tell  me  that  till  a very 
recent  period,  no  stable-yard  was  without  a flight  cf  three 
Etorie-steps  standing  by  themselves,  and  that  women  al 
^ays  mounted  from  these.  I know  it,  and  have  seer 
hundreds  of  them  in  the  western  counties ; but  before  1 
admit  your  argument,  you  must  show  me  that  these  steps 
existed  in  the  days  of  the  fair  equestrian  who  wore  no 
garb  but  modesty ; you  must  prove  that  those  people  are 
ivrong  who  describe  the  ladies  of  the  olden  time  as  mount- 
ing from  the  shoulder  of  a serving-man  or  a gallant. 

However  this  may  be,  neither  steps  nor  shoulders  are 
«o  good  as  a steady  hand,  which  is  the  means  patronized 
by  modern  horsewomen.  The  lady  having  gathered  up 
her  skirt,  and  holding  it  in  her  left  hand,  must  place  her- 
self as  close  as  possible  to  the  horse,  with  her  face  towards 
the  animaks  head,  and  her  right  hand  on  the  pummel. 
The  gentleman,  whose  part  and  privilege  it  is  to  assist 
her,  having  first  obtained  her  consent  to  do  so,  then  places 
himself  at  the  horse's  shoulder  with  his  face  towards  the 
lady,  and,  stooping  a little,  places  his  right  hand  horizon- 
tally at  a convenient  elevation  from  the  ground.  On  iLo 
palm  of  this  hand  the  damsel  sots  her  sv/eet  little  bft 
foot,  and  it  is  then  the  gentleman’s  duty  to  lift  it  with  a 
gentle  motion  as  she  herself  springs  upwards.  But  be- 
ware that  you  do  not  jerk  it  up  too  suddenly,  lest  i he 
lose  her  balance  and  be  thrown  back  over  the  saddle.  I 
have  seen  a lady  nearly  killed  by  awkward  mounting. 

A man  should  be  able  to  mount  on  either  side  of  ihe 
horse,  and  ladies  who  ride  much  and  wish*to  keep  their 
figures  straight,  change  the  side  from  time  to  time.  Whei^ 


220 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


the  lady  is  in  the  saddle  you  should  offer  to  put  her  foot 
in  the  stirrup  and  to  pull  down  the  skirt,  and  you  theu 
gi  ve  her  the  reins,  and  proceed  to  mount  yourself.  Mr. 
Rarey  teaches  us  to  do  so  without  stirrups,  and  a man 
who  would  be  graceful  should  practise  this  on  either  sid*'. 
A.  horse,  like  most  other  animals,  has  two  sides.  The  oi-e 
which  is  to  our  left  when  we  are  in  the  saddle  is  called 
the  ?iear,  the  other  the  off  side,  and  it  is  on  the  formei 
that  we  generally  mount.  We  place  our  left  foot  in  the 
stirrup,  our  left  hand  on  the  saddle,  and  swing  ourselves 
up,  throwing  the  right  leg  over  the  creature’s  back.  Noth- 
ing is  more  graceless  than  to  see  a man  climb  with  both 
hands  into  his  seat. 

The  seat  itself  is  one  of  those  things  which  must  bo 
learned  by  practice.  Tli^  chief  rules  are : sit  upright, 
but  not  stiffly,  and  well  back  in  the  saddle ; stick  the 
knees  into  the  sides  thereof,  and  keep  the  feet  parallel  to 
the  horse’s  body,  the  toes  turned  in  rather  than  out.  The 
foot  should  be  about  half-way  in  the  stirrup,  which  in 
rough-riding  may  be  allowed  to  slip  down  to  the  hollow 
of  the  foot.  The  greatest  obstacle  to  good  riding  is  want 
of  confidence,  and  this  car  scarcely  be  acquired,  except 
by  beginning  at  an  early  age.  If  you  cannot  ride  de- 
cently, you  had  better  not  attempt  it  in  company,  if  you 
would  not  risk  the  fate  of  Geordie  Campbell, — 

“ Saddled,  and  bridled,  and  booted  rode  he, 

Hame  cam  his  gude  steed,  but  never  earn  he  ” 

rhe  rule  of  the  road  need  not  be  observed  in  riding  as  in 
Jriving,  but  you  should  always  ride  to  the  right  of  the 
lady  who  is  with  you,  lest  you  risk  crushing  her  feet 
Vour  own,  of  course,  you  must  not  care  about.  When 
you  meet  people  whom  you  know  on  horseback,  you  have 


HUNTING. 


221 


HD  right  to  turn  ^and  join  them,  unless  invited  to  do  bo 
If  you  overtake  them,  on  the  other  hand,  you  have  a 
right  to  ride  with  them ; but  if  you  are  not  wanted,  you 
will  be  careful  about  exercising  the  privilege. 

About  hunting  I shall  say  little,  because  I know  little 
fvhich  is  a confession  you  will  find  it  the  wdsest  plan  t 
make  in  the  country.  I shall  only  advise  you  not  to 
hunt  unless  jou  have  a good  seat  and  a good  horse,  and 
never  accept  the  loan  of  a friend’s  horse,  and  still  less 
an  enemy’s,  unless  you  can  ride  very  Tvell.  A man  may 
forgive  you  for  breaking  his  daughter’s  heart,  but  never 
for  breaking  his  hunter’s  neck.  Another  point  is  always 
to  be  quiet  at  a meet,  and  never  join  a small  meet  unless 
you  know  some  one  in  the  field.  The  first  essential  for 
hunting  is  pluck ; the  second,  skill ; the  third,  a good 
horse.  Avoid  talking  of  3"Our  achievements,  enthusiastic 
shouting  when  you  break  cover,  and  riding  over  the 
hounds.  Whatever  you  do,  do  not  injure  one  of  those 
precious  animals. 

There  is  a grace  in  riding  which  no  jockey,  no  profes- 
sional huntsman  ever  acquires.  When  once  you  have 
confidence,  ease  may  soon  follow ; but  without  much  prac- 
tice, you  will  always  be  more  or  less  stiff*  in  your  seat. 
A lady  should  be  careful  to  sit  straight  in  the  middle  of 
the  saddle,  with  her  faCe  full  towards  the  horse’s  head. 
Whatever  the  motion  of  the  animal,  you  should  attempt 
wO  cling  as  closely  as  possible  to  the  saddle.  The  Aus* 
hrian  officers  pride  themselves  on  being  able  to  trot  for  2 
mile  mth  a glass  of  wine  in  one  hand,  and  not  spill  a 
drop  of  it.  In  England  we  rise  in  trotting,  as  a .relief  to 
ourselves  and  the  horse,  but  this  is  never  done  in  anj 
othei  country.  The  first  rule  is  to  rise,  not  from  th^ 


222 


ACCOMPLISHjMENTS. 


stiriLp,  but  from  the  knees;  the  secona,  to  rise  as  litth 
'dB  possible  The  man  who  ••  shows  daylignt’’  between 
himself  ani  his  saddle  is  a bad  rider.  A lady  sliould 
rise  even  less  than  a man,  and  neither  of  them  should  lean 
aver  the  horse’s  neck,  nor  hold  the  reins  in  both  hands  • 
But  I am  not  a riding-master,  and  J am  trespassing  OB 
his  ground. 

Driving,  again,  is  an  accomplishment  of  butcher’s  boys 
and  hansom  cabmen  as  much  as  of  gentlemen,”  but  there 
is  a vast  difference  in  the  stj^le.  One  rule  may  be  given 
at  once,  and  we  may  unhesitatingly  affirm  that  Jehu  the 
son  of  Nimshi  was  no  gentleman,”  when  we  remind 
you  that  to  drive  furiously,  as  well  as  to  ride  furiously,  is 
not  only  forbidden  by  law,  but  a low,  cruel,  ungentleman- 
like habit. 

“ The  beggar  mounted  rides  his  horse  to  death.” 

If  you  drive  too  fast,  I am  tempted  to  ask  whether  the  an 
imal  is  your  own,  and  whether  you  know  its  value.  I may 
aiid,  that  if  wise  you  will  never  drive  other  people’s  horses 
unless  asked  to  do  so.  The  rule  of  the  road  in  England 
is  a curious  instance  of  our  national  distinctiveness.  In 
every  other  country  that  I know,  the  law  is  simple  enough  : 
always  keep  to  the  right  side  of  the  road.  In  this  land, 
on  the  contrary,  you  must  take  the  left  when  you  meet, 
and  the  right  when  you  pass.  The  custom,  I believe  orig 
inated  in  that  of  shaking  hands  with  every  one  you  met 
which  reminds  me  of  a pretty  one  they  once  had,  and  evci 
now  retain  in  some  parts  of  France,  that  a man  arifl 
lady  riding  hand  in  hand  tog’Other.  I have  even  ridden 
arm  in  arm  with  a fair-haired  b'.ue-eyed  Norman  girl,  and 
if  I did  not  snatch  a kiss  there  and  then  it  was  not  fo) 


Dix.  VING. 


fear  of  losing  my  balance.  Well,  our  grandmothers  used 
to  ride  on  one  horse  with  our  grandflithers,  tucking  their 
finger:-  into  the  belts  which  the  latter  wore,  and  seated  on 
the  pillion  much  more  comfortably  than  their  grand 
daughters  on  the  pummel ; but  what  horses  they  mu^it 
i .11 3 had  in  those  days  ! 

But  to  return  to  driving.  It  is  a simple  art,  requiring 
care  rather  than  aught  else,  unless  it  be  a knowledge  of 
the  dispositions  of  the  horse  or  horses  you  undertake  to 
drii  e.  One  horse  or  a pair  can  give  but  little  embarrass- 
ment, and  you  will  seldom  be  called  upon  to  drive  tandem, 
unicorn,  or  four  in  hand.  But,  perhaps,  more  accidents 
occur  in  turning  corners  than  in  anything  else,  and  I should 
not  do  my  duty,  if  I did  not  advise  you,  when  the  corner 
is  on  your  right  hand,  to  give  it  a wide  berth ; when  on 
your  left,  to  turn  it  gently  and  as  slowly  as  possible. 

The  exercises  which  come  rather  under  the  head  of 
games,  such  as  cricket,  rackets,  tennis,  bowls,  skittles,  and 
a dozen  others,  are  by  no  means  compulsory  on  any  man 
to  knovf,  and  I shall  therefore  leave  their  description  to 
the  many  and  various  guide-books  destined  to  introduce 
the  young  athlete  to  British  Olympics.  But  I may  r<^- 
mark  that,  while  these  games  are  purely  republican  in 
spirit,  and  my  lord,  if  clumsy,  ranks  lower  for  the  time 
than  the  skilful  villager,  it  is  no  way  diflBcult  to  distinguish 
the  well-bred  man,  whether  a good  player  or  not.  Fur 
while  he  yields  entirely  to  the  excitement  of  the  game,  he 
will  refuse  to  join  in  the  silly  familiarities  to  which  it 
^metimes  leads.  You  will  never  hear  him  banter  anothei 
jii  his  bad  play,  nor.  as  too  common  in  some  games,  will 
hf?  vent  oaths  and  strong  epithets  on  some  one  who  baa 
made  a gross  error.  When  he  does  so  himself,  he  will 


224 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


confess  himself  wrong,  and  not  clamorously  defend  him’ 
self;  and,  if  he  has  to  ask  another  player  for  anything 
he  will  call  to  him  in  an  affable  not  an  impatient  com 
mantling  tone,  and  use  some  such  phrase  as  : may  I trouble 
you  for  that  ball,  sir?’’  not  ‘‘Ball,  you  there,”  as  one 
sometimes  hears  it.  In  short,  he  will  retain,  under  the 
excitement  of  the  game^  the  same  good  bearing  which  ho 
displays  in  society. 

Similar  observations  apply  to  all  kinds  of  out-dooi 
amusements,  such  as  shooting,  boating,  and  so  forth,  A 
gentleman  will  never  attempt  to  monopolize  the  sport,  and 
however  superior  in  skill  to  his  companions,  will  not  parade 
bis  superiority,  still  less  boast  of  it,  but  rather,  that  the 
others  may  not  feel  their  inferiority,  he  will  keep  considera- 
bly  within  his  powers.  If  a guest  or  a stranger  be  of  the 
party,  the  best  place  and  the  best  sport  must  be  offered  to 
him,  even  though  he  may  be  a poor  shot,  a bad  oar,  and  so 
on ; but,  at  the  same  time,  if  a guest  knows  his  inferiority 
in  this  respect,  he  will,  for  more  reasons  than  one,  prefer 
in  inferior  position.  So,  too,  when  a certain  amount  of 
exertion  is  required,  as  in  boating,  a well-bred  man  will 
offer  to  take  the  greater  share,  and  will  never  shirk  his 
work.  In  short,  the  v»^hole  rule  of  good  manners  on  such 
occasions  is  not  to  be  selfish,  and  the  most  amiable  man 
will  therefore  be  the  best  bred. 

Talking  of  boating  reminds  one  of  old  college  days,  and 
the  healthy  happiness  that  exercise  used  to  bring  one.  It 
is  certainly  desirable  that  a “ compleat  gentleman*’  sho’ild 
be  able  to  handle  an  oar  as  well  as  a gun,  both  that  when 
he  has  the  opportunity  he  may  get  health,  and  that  he  may 
be  able  to  take  j'art  in  the  charming  excursions  which  are 
made  by  water.  In  fact  a man  ought  to  be  able  to  turn 


SPORTS. 


221 


hia  hand  to  almost  everything,  and,  what  ]S  m /re,  should 
do  himself  whatever  he  can.  It  is  a false  and  vulgar  prida 
which  prevents  a man  from  stoopin*g  to  cord  his  own  1)05\ 
carrying  his  own  bag,  weeding  his  own  g.arden,  cuttii^g  hh 
own  hedges  (for  he  must  take  care  not  to  cut  anjbodv 
3lse\s),  shutting  his  own  shutters,  putting  coal  on  his  owij 
fire,  or  what  not.  To  ring  up  a servant  for  these  things, 
shows  either  laziness  or  a vulgar  attempt  at  gi^mdeur. 
Indeed,  for  my  part,  nothing  seems  to  me  so  comfortless 
as  the  constant  entrance  of  servants  ; it  interrupts  conver- 
sation, and  destroys  the  feeling  of  ease  and  privacy.  I 
once  met,  at  the  house  of  a lady  friend,  the  son  of  a man 
who  had  begun  life  as  a grocer,  made  his  fortune  by  a sue 
cessful  speculation,  and  settled  down  in  the  full  conviction 
that  he  was  therefore  a “gentleman.’’  My  friend  had 
requested  the  young  man  to  put  some  coal  on  the  fire,  and 
as  he  was  rather  clumsy  about  it,  he  excused  himself  in 
the  following  speech  : “ You  see,  aw — Mrs.  B — , that  I 
am — aw — really  not  accustomed  to  do  this  kind  of  thing, 
don’t  you  see?  Now  at  home,  you  see,  the  governor, 
when  he  wants  coals,  rings  the  bell,  and  the  butler  cornea 
in;  ‘Coal,’  says  the  old  gentleman,  and  the  butler  dis- 
appears to  tell — aw — the  upper-footman,  who  thinks,  it  be- 
neath his  dignity,  and  therefore  tells — aw — the  under 
footman,  who  comes  up  and  puts  it  on.”  I thought  of  the 
Anglo-Indians,  who,  in  this  country,  have  often  had  no 
more  servants  than  a cook  a maid,  and  a “buttons,’  and 
bad  to  do  everything  for  themselves,  but  wdio  once  m 
India,  find  it  impossible  to  tie  their  own  shoe-strings,  and 
are  obliged  to  keep  a twenty-oneth  or  even  liirty -onetl] 
servant  for  equally  trivial  offices. 

But  if  a certain  amount  of  skill  in  out-door  amusements 
10* 


226 


ACOOMPr.ISIIMENTS. 


IS  essential  to  a man  who  wishes  to  be  agreeable,  how  uuch 
more  so  in  those  in-door  amusements,  which  are  the  very 
objects  for  which  people  commonly  assemble,  and  are  there- 
fore the  continual  accompaniments  of  society  ? The  ail 
of  talking  is,  of  course,  the  first  of  such  accomplishments 
and  as  it  is  a subject  of  the  highest  importance  and  verj 
large  range,  it  has  been  taken  up  in  the  preliminary  chap- 
ter But  besides  conversation,  and  sometimes  as  an  aid  to 
it,  parties  and  balls  are  given  for  the  purposes  of  dancing, 
music,  games  (especially  cards),  and  eating  and  drinking. 
Of  the  etiquette  of  these  parties  I shall  speak  elsewhere 
I now  content  myself  with  a few  hints  on  the  accomplivsh- 
ments  themselves  which  are  displayed  in  them. 

Thank  you — aw — I do  not  dance,’’  is  now  a very 
common  reply  from  a well-dressed  handsome  man,  who  i^ 
leaning  against  the  side  of  the  door,  to  the  anxious,  heated 
hostess,  who  feels  it  incumbent  on  her  to  find  a partner 
for  poor  Miss  Wallflower.  I say  the  reply  is  not  only 
common,  but  even  regarded  as  rather  a fine  one  to  make. 
In  short,  men  of  the  present  day  don’t,  won’t,  or  can’t 
dance ; and  you  can’t  make  them  do  it,  except  by  threat- 
ening to  give  them  no  supper.  I really  cannot  discover 
the  reason  for  this  aversion  to  an  innocent  amusement,  for 
the  apparent  purpose  of  enjoying  wdiich  tliey  have  spent 
an  hour  and  a half  on  their  toilet,  and  half  a-crown  on  a 
hansom  cabman.  There  is  something,  indeed,  in  the  heat 
of  a London  ball-room  in  the  middle  of  July,  there  is  a 
grout  deal  in  the  ridiculous  smallness  of  the  closets  into 
f\hich  the  ball-giver  crowds  two  hundred  people  with 
cruel  indifference  only  equalled  by  that  of  the  black-hole 
of  Calcutta,  expecting  them  to  enjoy  themselves,  wher 
the  hulies’  dresses  are  crushed  and  torn,  and  the  gentle^ 


1 DON'T  DANOE.’^  21^7 

meii.  under  tlie  despotism  of  theirs,  are  melting  awaj  at 
most  as  rapidly  as  the  ices  with  which  an  occasional  waiter 
has  the  heartlessness  to  insult  them.  Then,  again,  it  is  i 
2reat  nuisance  to  be  introduced  to  a succession  of  plain, 
iiiiite resting  young  women,  of  whose  tastes,  mode  of  life, 
io.  you  have  not  the  slightest  conception : who  may  look 
gay  yet  have  never  a thought  beyond  the  curate  and  the 
parish,  or  appear  to  be  serious,  while  they  understand 
nothing  but  the  opera  and  Lady  So-and-so’s  ball — in  fact, 
to  be  in  perpetual  risk  of  either  shocking  their  prejudices, 
01  plaguing  them  with  subjects  in  which  they  can  have  no 
possible  interest ; to  take  your  chance  whether  they  can 
dance  at  all,  and  to  know  that  when  you  have  lighted  on 
a real  charmer,  perhaps  the  beauty  of  the  room,  she  is 
only  lent  to  you  for  that  one  dance,  and  when  that  is  ovt;r, 
and  you  have  salaamed  away  again,  you  and  she  must  re- 
main to  one  another  as  if  you  bad  never  met ; to  feel,  in 
short,  that  you  must  destroy  either  your  present  comfort 
or  future  happiness,  is  certainly  sufficiently  trying  to  keep 
a man  close  to  the  side-posts  of  the  doorway.  But  these 
are  reasons  which  might  keep  him  altogether  from  a ball- 
room, and  if  he  has  these  and  other  objections  to  dancing, 
be  certainly  cannot  be  justified  in  coming  to  a place  set 
apart  tor  that  sole  purpose. 

But  I suspect  that  there  are  other  reasons,  and  that  in 
most  cases  the  individual  can  dance  and  does  dance  at 
times,  but  has  now  a vulgar  desire  to  be  distinguished 
from  the  rest  of  his  sex  present,  and  to  appear  indifferent 
to  the  pleasures  of  the  evening.  If  this  be  his  laudable 
desire,  however,  he  might  at  least  be  consistent,  and  con- 
tinue to  cling  to  his  door-post,  like  St.  Sebastian  to  hif 
tree,  and  reply  thi'oughout  the  evening  : Thank  you, 


228 


ACCOM  PLISHMENTS. 


don’t  take  refreshments  Thank  you.  I can’t  eat  sup* 
per  Thank  you,  I don’t  talk  Thank  you,  I don’t 
drink  champagne;” — for  if  a London  ball-room  be  purga^ 
tory,  what  a demoniacal  conflict  does  a London  supper 
room  present ; if  young  ladies  be  bad  for  the  heart,  chartj 
pagne  is  worse  for  the  head. 

No,  it  is  the  will,  not  the  power  to  dance  which  is  want* 
ing,  and  to  refuse  to  do  so,  unless  for  a really  good  reason, 
is  not  the  part  of  a well-bred  man.  To  mar  the  pleasure 
of  others  is  obviously  bad  manners,  and  though  at  the 
door-post  you  may  not  be  in  the  way,  you  may  be  certain 
that  there  are  some  young  ladies  longing  to  dance,  and 
expecting  to  be  asked,  and  that  the  hostess  is  vexed  and 
annoyed  by  seeing  them  fixed,  like  pictures,  to  the  wall. 
It  is  therefore  the  duty  of  every  man  who  has  no  scruples 
about  dancing,  and  purposes  to  appear  at  balls,  to  learn 
how  to  dance. 

In  the  present  day  the  art  is  much  simplified,  and  if 
you  can  walk  through  a quadrille,  and  perform  a polka, 
waltz,  or  galop,  you  may  often  dance  a whole  evening 
through.  Of  course,  if  you  can  add  to  these  the  Lancers, 
Schottische,  and  Polka-Mazurka,  you  will  have  more  va- 
riety, and  can  be  more  generally  agreeable.  But  if  your 
master  or  mistress  (a  man  learns  better  from  the  former) 
has  stuffed  into  your  head  some  of  the  three  hundred 
lances  which  he  tells  you  exist,  the  best  thing  you  can 
lo  is  tc  forget  them  again  Whether  right  or  wrong  the 
number  of  usual  dances  is  limited,  and  unusual  ones 
should  be  very  sparingly  introduced  into  a ball,  for  as  few 
people  know  them,  tlieir  dancing,  on  the  one  hand,  becomes 
a mere  display,  and,  on  the  other,  interrupts  the  enjoy 
ment  of  the  majority. 


THE  QUAEKILLE. 


22? 


The  quadrille  is  proncainced  to  be  essentially  a aor.v'er 
saticna]  dance,  but  inasmuch  as  the  figures  are  perpetuallj 
calling  you  away  from  your  partner,  the  first  necessity 
for  dancing  a quadrille  is  to  be  supplied  with  a fund  of 
small  talk,  in  which  you  can  go  from  subject  to  subject 
like  a bee  from  flow  m to  flower.  The  next  point  is  to 
carry  yourself  uprightly.  Time  was  when — as  in  the 
days  of  the  mcimet  de  la  coiir — the  carriage  constituted 
the  dance.  This  is  still  the  case  with  the  quadrille,  in 
which  even  if  ignorant  of  the  figures,  you  may  acquit 
yourself  well  by  a calm  graceful  carriage.  After  all,  the 
most  important  figure  is  the  smile^  and  the  feet  may  be 
left  to  their  fate,  if  we  know  what  to  do  with  our  hands  * 
of  which  I may  observe  that  they  should  never  be  pocketed 

The  smile  is  essential.  A dance  is  supposed  to  amuse, 
and  nothing  is  more  out  of  place  in  it  than  a gloomy 
scowl,  unless  it  be  an  ill-tempered  frown.  The  gaiety  of 
a dance  is  more  essential  than  the  accuracy  of  its  figures, 
and  if  you  feel  none  yourself,  you  may  at  least  look 
pleased  by  that  of  those  around  you.  A defiant  manner 
is  equally  obnoxious.  An  acquaintance  of  mine  always 
gives  me  the  impression,  when*  he  advances  in  l^ete,  that 
he  is  about  to  box  the  lady  who  comes  to  meet  him.  But 
the  most  objectionable  of  all  is  the  supercilious  manner. 
Dear  me,  if  you  really  think  you  do  your  partner  an  hon- 

in  dancing  with  her,  you  should  at  least  remember  that 
your  condescension  is  annulled  by  the  manner  in  whief 
you  treat  her. 

A lady — beautiful  word  ! -is  a delicate  creature,  one 
who  should  be  reverenced  and  delicately  treated.  It  is 
therefore  unpardonable  to  rush  about  in  a quadrille,  tc 
catch  hold  of  the  lady’s  hand  as  if  it  were  a door-handle, 


230 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


or  to  drag  her  furiously  across  the  room,  as  if  you  'i^eris 
Bluebeard  and  she  Fatima,  with  the  mysteiious  closet  op- 
posite to  you.  This  brusque  violent  style  of  dancing  m 
unfortunately  common,  but  immediately  stamps  a man 
Though  I would  not  have  you  wear  a perpetual  simpeu 
you  should  certainly  smile  when  you  take  a lady’s  hand 
and  the  old  custom  of  bowing  in  doing  so,  is  one  that  wc 
may  regret ; for  does  she  not  confer  an  honor  on  us  by 
t^  e action  ? To  squeeze  it,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a gross 
familiarity,  for  which  you  would  deserve  to  be  kicked  out 
of  the  room. 

Steps/*  as  the  chasser  of  the  quadrille  is  called,  be- 
long to  a past  age,  and  even  ladies  are  now  content  to  walk 
through  a quadrille.  To  be  graceful,  however,  a lady 
should  hold  her  skirt  out  a little.  In  France  this  is  done 
with  one  hand,  which  I am  inclined  to  think  is  more 
graceful  than  holding  it  with  both.  It  is,  however,  neces- 
sary to  keep  time  with  the  music,  the  great  object  being 
the  general  harmony.  To  preserve  this,  it  is  also  advisa- 
ble, where  the  quadrille,  as  is  now  generally  the  case,  is 
danced  by  two  long  lines  of  couples  down  the  room,  that 
in  Vete^  and  other  figures,  in  which  a gentleman  and  lady 
advance  alone  to  meet  one  another,  none  but  gentlemen 
should  a Vance  from  the  one  side,  and  therefore  none  but 
ladies  fron  the  other. 

Dancing  masters  find  it  convenient  to  introduce  new 
figures,  and  the  fashion  of  La  Trenise  and  the  Grand 
Roude  is  repeatedly  changing.  It  is  wise  to  know  tha 
last  mode,  but  not  to  insist  on  dancing  it.  A quad  rills 
cannot  go  on  evenly  if  any  confusion  arises  from  the  igniv- 
tance,  obstinacy,  or  inattention  of  any  one  of  the  lancers 
it  is  therefore  useful  to  know  every  way  in  which  a figuri 


THE  VALUE  OF  QUADRILLES. 

may  be  danced,  and  to  take  your  cue  from  the  othirs.  It 
s amusing,  however,  to  find  how  even  such  a trille  as  a 
choice  of  figures  in  a quadrille  can  help  to  mark  castO;, 
and  give  a handle  for  supercilious  sneers.  Jones,  ths 
other  day,  was  protesting  that  the  Browns  were  vulgar. 
‘‘Why  so?  they  are  w^ell  bred.’’  ‘‘Yes,  so  they  areJ' 
‘‘They  are  well-informed.”  “Certainly.”  “They  ait 
polite,  speak  good  English,  dress  quietly  and  well,  are 
graceful  and  even  elegant.”  “ I grant  you  all  that.’ 
“ Then  what  fault  can  you  find  with  them.”  “ My  deal 
fellow,  they  are  people  who  gallop  round  in  the  last  figun 
of  a quadrille,”  he  replied  triumphantly.  But  to  a cer- 
tain extent  Jones  is  right.  Where  a choice  is  given,  the 
man  of  taste  will  always  select  for  a quadrille  (as  it  is 
a conversational  dance)  the  quieter  mode  of  performing 
a figure,  and  so  the  Browns,  if  perfect  in  other  respects, 
at  least  were  wanting  in  taste.  There  is  one  alteration 
latelj^  introduced  from  France,  which  I sincerely  trust 
will  be  universally  accepted.  The  farce  of  that  degrading 
little  performance  called  “ setting” — where  you  dance  be- 
fore your  partner  somewhat  like  Man  Friday  before 
Robinson  Crusoe,  and  then  as  if  your  feelings  were  over- 
come, seize  her  hands  and  whirl  her  round — has  been 
finally  abolished  by  a decree  of  Fashion,  and  thus  more 
opportunity  is  given  for  conversation,  and  in  a crowded 
room  you  have  no  occasion  to  crush  yourself  and  partner 
between  the  couples  on  each  side  of  you. 

I dc  not  attempt  to  deny  that  the  quadrille,  as  noi? 
walked^  is  ridiculous;  the  figures,  which  might  be  giacc- 
fill  if  performed  in  a lively  manner,  have  entirely  lost 
their  spirit,  and  are  become  a burlesque  of  dancing ; but, 
at  the  same  time,  it  is  a most  valuable  dance.  Old  and 


282 


ACCOMPLISHMEN  It 


youligj  stout  and  thin,  good  dancers  and  bad,  lazy  a no 
active,  stupid  and  clever,  married  and  single,  can  all  join 
in  it,  and  have  not  only  an  excuse  and  oppoitunity  for 
iHc-u-tHe  conversation,  Avhich  is  decidedly  the  easiest, 
**ut  find  encouragement  in  the  music,  and  in  some  cases 
>:nT3nient  breaks  in  the  necessity  of  dancing.  A per 
i»jii  of  few  ideas  has  time  to  collect  them  Avhile  the  part 
ner  is  performing,  and  one  of  many  can  bring  them  cut 
with  double  effect.  Lastly,  if  you  wish  to  be  polite  oi 
friendly  to  an  acquaintance  Avho  dances  atrociously,  you 
can  select  a quadrille  for  him  or  her,  as  the  case  may  bo 
Intense  patriotism  still  induces  some  people  to  afiirm  that 
the  English  country-dance  is  far  preferable  to  this  impor- 
tation from  France.  These  good  creatures  should  inquire 
a little  further.  I think  they  Avould  find  that  the  country- 
dance  {contre-danse)  came  from  the  same  source  ai  a 
somewhat  earlier  date.  But,  however  this  may  be,  a 
dance  which  tears  me  so  completely  aAvay  from  the  part- 
ner I have  selected,  ought  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  to  bo 
hateful  to  me. 

Very  different  in  object  and  principle  are  the  so-called 
round  dances,  and  there  are  great  limitations  as  to  tliose 
who  should  join  in  them.  Here  the  intention  is  to  enjoy 
a peculiar  physical  movement  under  peculiar  conditions, 
and  the  conversation  during  the  intervals  of  rest  is  only 
u secondary  object.  These  dances  demand  activity  and 
lightness^  and  should  therefore  be,  as  a rule,  confined  to 
the  young.  An  cld  man  sacrifices  all  his  dignity  in  a 
polka,  and  an  old  Avoman  :s  ridiculous  in  a waltz.  Cor- 
pulency too,  is  generally  a great  impediment,  though 
some  stout  people  prove  to  be  the  lightest  dancers. 

The  morality  of  round  dances  scarcely  comes  within 


THE  WALTZ. 


28a 


province  They  certainly  can  be  made  verj^  indelicate, 
so  can  any  dance,  and  the  French  cancan  proves  that  the 
(|[uadrille  is  no  safer  in  this  respect  than  the  waltz.  But 
it  is  a gross  insult  to  our  daughters  and  sisters  to  suppose 
iJiem  capabh)  of  any  but  the  most  innocent  and  purest  eiV' 
^oyment  in  the  dance,  while  of  our  young  men  I will  say 
that  to  the  pure  all  things  are  pure.  Those  who  see  harm 
in  it  are  those  in  whose  mind  evil  thoughts  must  have 
arisen.  Honi  soit  qni  mal  y pense.  Those  who  rail 
against  dancing  are  perhaps  not  aware  that  tliey  do  but 
follow  in  the  steps  of  the  Romish  Church.  In  many  parts 
of  the  Continent,  bishops  who  have  never  danced  in  their 
lives,  and  perhaps  never  even  seen  a dance,  have  laid  a 
ban  of  excommunication  on  waltzing.  A story  was  me 
told  in  Normandy  of  the  worthy  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  one 
of  this  number.  A priest  of  his  diocese  petitioned  him 
to  put  down  round  dances.  I know  nothing  about 
them,’’  replied  the  prelate,  I hav^e  never  even  seen  a 
waltz.”  Upon  this  the  younger  ecclesiastic  attempted  to 
explain  what  it  was  and  wherein  the  danger  lay,  but  the 
Bishop  could  not  see  it.  Will  IVIonseigneur  permit  me 
to  show  him  ?”  asked  the  priest.  Certainly.  My  chap- 
lain here  appears  to  understand  the  subject ; let  me  see 
you  two  waltz.”  How  the  reverend  gentleman  came  to 
know  so  much  about  it  does  not  appear,  but  they  certainly 
danced  a polka,  a gallop,  and  a troistemps  waltz.  All 
these  seem  harmless  enough.”  Oh  ! but  Monseigneur 
has  not  seen  the  worst ;”  and  thereupon  the  two  gentle- 
men proceeded  to  flounder  through  a valse  d deux-tempa. 
They  must  have  murdered  it  terribly,  for  they  were 
not  half  round  the  room  when  his  Lordship  cried  out. 

Enough,  enough,  that  is  atrocious,  and  deserves  excam 


J8i 


A CCOM  PLIS II M E .-N  TS. 


rniuiiei.tioii.’'  Accordingly  this  waltz  was  forbilJen  while 
the  other  dances  were  allowed.  I was  at  a public  ball  at. 
Caen  soon  after  this  occurrence,  and  was  amused  to  find 
tlie  ois-teinps  danced  with  a peculiar  shuffle,  by  way  cf 
c nnpromise  between  conscience  and  pleasure. 

There  are  people  in  this  country  whose  logic  is  as  goal 
.12  that  of  the  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  but  I confess  my  ina- 
bility to  understand  it.  If  there  is  impropriety  in  round 
dances,  there  is  the  same  in  all.  But  to  the  waltz,  which 
poets  have  praised  and  preachers  denounced.  The  French, 
with  all  their  love  of  dancing,  waltz  atrociously,  the  Eng- 
lish but  little  better ; the  Germans  and  llussians  alone 
understand  it.  I could  rave  through  three  pages  about 
the  innocent  enjoyment  of  a good  waltz,  its  grace  and 
beauty,  but  I will  be  practical  instead,  and  giv<^  you  a 
few  hints  on  the  subject. 

The  position  is  the  most  important  point  The  lady 
%nd  gentleman  before  starting  should  stand  exactly  oppo- 
site to  one  another,  quite  upright,  and  hot,  as  is  so  com- 
mon in  England,  painfully  close  to  one  another.  If  the 
man’s  hand  be  placed  wfflere  it  should  be,  at  the  centre  of 
the  lady’s  waist,  and  not  all  round  it,  he  will  have  as  firm 
a hold  and  not  be  obliged  to  stoop,  or  bend  to  his  right. 
The  lady’s  head  should  then  be  turned  a little  towards 
her  left  shoulder,  and  her  partner’s  somewhat  less  towards 
liis  right,  in  order  to  preserve  the  proper  balance.  Noth- 
^ 5ng  can  be  more  atrocious  than  to  see  a lady  lay  her  head 
Dfi  her  partner’s  shoulder ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  she 
wiL  not  dance  well,  if  she  turns  it  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. The  lady  again  should  throw  her  head  and  shouB 
iera  a little  back,  and  the  man  lean  a very  little  forward 

The  position  having  been  gained,  the  stef  is  the  next 


THE  WALTZ. 


23/^ 


Question.  In  Germany  the  rapidity  of  the  waltz  is  verj 
great,  but  it  is  rendered  elegant  by  slackening  the  pace 
every  now  and  then,  and  thus  giving  a crescendo  and 
decre.<cendo  time  to  the  movement.  The  Russian  me  a 
undertake  to  perform  in  waltzing  the  same  feat  as  th 
Austrians  in  riding,  and  will  dance  round  the  room  witl 
i glass  of  champagne  in  the  left  hand  without  spilling  a 
Irop.  This  evenness  in  waltzing*  is  certainly  very  grace- 
fill,  but  can  only  be  attained  by  a long  sliding  step,  which 
IS  little  practised  in  England,  where  the  rooms  are  small, 
and  people,  not  understanding  the  real  pleasure  of  danc- 
ing well,  insist  on  dancing  all  at  the  same  time.  In  Ger- 
many they  are  so  alive  to  the  necessity  of  ample  space, 
that  in  large  balls  a rope  is  drawn  across  the  room ; its 
two  ends  are  held  by  the  masters  of  the  ceremonies  pro 
tem.^  and  as  one  couple  stops  and  retires,  another  is  al- 
lowed to  pass  under  the  rope  and  take  its  place.  But 
then  in  Germany  they  dance  for  the  dancing’s  sake. 
However  this  may  be,  an  even  motion  is  very  desirable, 
and  all  the  abominations  which  militate  against  it,  such 
as  hop-waltzes,  the  Schottische,  and  ridiculous  Varsoj 
irienne^  are  justly  put  down  in  good  society.  The  pace, 
again,  should  not  be  sufficiently  rapid  to  endanger  other 
couples.  It  is  the  gentleman’s  duty  to  steer^  and  in 
crowded  rooms  nothing  is  more  trying.  He  must  keep 
his  eyes  open  and  turn  them  in  every  direction,  if  he 
would  not  risk  a collision,  and  the  chance  of  a fall,  or 
what  is  as  bad,  the  infliction  of  a wound  on  his  partner’s 
drm  1 have  seen  a lady’s  arm  cut  open  in  sue!  a col- 
lision by  the  bracelet  on  that  of  another  lady;  and  the 
sight  is  by  no  means  a pleasant  one  in  a ball-room,  to  saj 
nothing  of  a new  dress  covered  in  a moment  with  blood 


236 


A C COM  PLISHMKNTS. 


T1j8  consequences  of  violent  dancing  may  be  really  so- 
rious.  Not  only  do  delicate  girls  bring  on  thereby  a vio 
lent  pa'pitation  of  the  heart,  and  their  partners  appear  in 
a most  disagreeable  condition  of  solution,  but  dangerciw 
ails  ensue  from  it.  I have  known  instances  of  a lady’s 
head  being  laid  open,  and  a gentleman’s  foot  being  brokcm 
in  such  a fall,  resulting,  poor  fellow,  in  lameness  for  life. 
Nay,  even  death  hovers  among  the  giddy  waltzers,  hnd 
Victor  Hugo  has  written  a beautiful  little  poem  on  girls 
who  have  died  of  dancing,  of  which  one  verse  as  a moral  • 

“ Quels  tristes  lendemains  laisse  le  bal  folatre  ! 

Adieu,  parure,  danse  et  rires  en^intins  ! 

Aux  chansons  succedait  le  toux  opiniatre, 

Au  plaisir  rose  et  frais  la  fievre  au  teint  bleuatre, 

Aux  yeux  brillants  les  yeux  eteints.” 

Be  careful  of  the  waltz,  be  sparing,  lest  it  prove,  in  this 
land  of  consumption,  to  too  many  the  true  dance  of  death. 
Let  us  not  mingle  cypress  with  our  roses. 

It  is  perhaps  useless  to  recommend  flat-foot  waltzing  in 
this  country,  where  ladies  allow  themsel’vs  to  be  almost 
hugged  by  their  partners,  and  where  men  think  it  neces- 
sary to  lift  a lady  almost  off*  the  ground,  but  I am  per- 
suaded that  if  it  were  introduced,  the  outcry  against  the 
impropriety  of  waltzing  w^'uld  soon  cease.  Nothing  can 
be  more  delicate  than  the  way  in  which  a (veiman  hold? 
his  partner.  It  is  impossible  to  dance  (a  the  flat  foot 
unless  the  lady  and  gentleman  are  quitr  fr  .o  of  one  an- 
other. His  hand  therefore  goes  no  furtlivc  round  her  waist 
fcHan  to  the  hooks  and  eyes  of  her  dresa,  aers^  no  higher 
than  to  his  elbow.  Thus  danced  the  tnltz  n smooth, 
graceful,  and  delicate,  and  we  could  ncra  in  de/mmj 
complain  of  our  daughter’s  languishing  on  a man’i 


FLAT-FOOT  WALTZING. 


shoulder.  On  the  other  hand,  nothing  is  more  graceless 
and  absurd  than  to  see  a man  waltzing  on  the  tips  of  his 
toes,  lifting  his  partner  off  the  ground,  or  twirling  round 
and  round  with  her  like  the  figures  on  a street  organ 
The  test  of  waltzing  in  time  is  to  be  able  to  stamp  tJjo 
time  with  the  left  foot.  A good  flat-foot  waltzer  can 
dance  on  one  foct  as  well  as  on  two,  but  I would  not 
advise  liim  to  try  it  in  public,  lest  like  Mr.  Rarey’s  horse 
on  three  legs,  he  should  come  to  the  ground  in  a luckless 
moment  The  legs  should  be  very  little  bent  in  dancing, 
the  body  ^till  less  so.  I do  not  know  whether  it  be  worse  to 
see  a man  sil  down  in  a waltz,  or  to  find  him  with  his  head 
poked  forward  over  your  young  wife’s  shoulder,  hot,  red, 
wild,  and  in  far  too  close  proximity  to  the  partner  of  your 
bosom,  whom  he  makes  literally  the  partner  of  his  own.  • 
King  Polka  has  been  deposed  after  a reign  of  nearly 
twenty  years.  I cannot  refrain  from  throwing  up  my  cap. 
True,  his  rule  was  easy,  and  he  was  popular  on  that  ac- 
count , indeed,  he  has  still  his  partisans  in  certain  classes, 
but  not  in  the  best.  For  what  a graceless,  jogging,  hug- 
ging, sleepy  old  creature  he  was  ! Then,  too,  he  was  not 
even  a legitimate  sovereign.  The  good  family  of  the 
Polkas  in  Hungary,  Poland,  &c.,  would  not  recognize  this 
pretender  of  England  and  France,  who  is  no  more  like 
them  than  that  other  pretender  Mazurka,  is  like  the  orig- 
inal spirited,  national  fling  of  the  same  name.  It  is  cu- 
rious to  see  how  our  D’Egvilles  have  ransacked  Europe 
for  national  dances  to  be  adapted  to  the  drawing-room, 
rnd,  indeed,  there  spoiled.  The  waltz  is  of  German  origin 
but  where  it  is  still  danced  in  Germany  in  the  originaj 
manner  (as  for  instance,  among  the  peasants  of  the  Tyiol)^ 
it  is  a very  different  dance.  It  is  there  very  sbw  an(J 


23S 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


graceful ; the  feet  are  thrown  out  in  a single  kng  step 
which  'J  urveydrop,  I presume,  w’ould  call  a jetL  After 
a few  turns,  the  partners  waltz  alone  in  the  same  step 
il  e -in an  keeping  the  time  by  striking  together  his  iron 
-^1/od  heels,  until  with  a shout  and  clapping  of  hands  lie 
again  clasps  his  partner  and  continues  in  the  same  slow 
measure  with  her.  The  very  names  of  the  dances  bespeak 
their  origin.  The  Sclavonic  nations  must  have  given  us 
the  Polka,  Mazurka,  Redowa,  Gorlitza.  and  Eletezka, 
whatever  that  may  be.  The  Varsovienne  and  Cracovienne 
are  all  that  remain  of  Polish  nationality. 

“Ye  have  the  Pyrrhic  dance  as  yet, 

Where  is  the  Pyrrhic  phalanx  gone?” 

says  Byron  bitterly  to  the  Greeks,  and  some  future  Rus- 
sian agent  may  perhaps  sing  to  the  wearers  of  the  kilt  in 
the  same  strain  : — 

“Ye  have  the  Higliland  reel  as  yet, 

Where  are  your  Highland  chieftains  gone?” 

Then  the  Madrilaine  has  been  imported  from  Spain, 
which  retains  the  oriental  Bolero,  Fandango,  and  Cachu- 
cha.  The  last  is  of  purely  Eastern  character,  and  might 
be  danced  by  a Nach  girl  before  a Lucknow  Prince.  The 
Americans  with  more  patriotism  than  ourselves  have  pre 
served  the  only  national  and  English  dances,  the  hornpipe 
and  jig,  and  have  about  twenty  varieties  of  the  former  in- 
eluding  a sailor’s,  college,  gipsy’s,  and  even  bricklayer’s 
lamplighter’s  hornpipe.  These  American  dances  have 
names  no  less  eccentric  than  their  drinks.  We  should 
scarcely  care  to  join  in  the  Devil’s  Dream,''  for  instance, 
and  the  dance  called  “ Jordan  is  a hard  road”  can  hardly 
be  a favorite  out  of  Hebrew  circl^^^  ^ Money  Musk”  wai 


THE  POLKA,  GALOP,  ETC. 


once  an  English  dance.  When  there  tvas  a quarrel  be* 
tween  the  country  people  and  the  rich  tradesmen  at  the 
Bath  balls.  Beau  Nash  had  some  trouble  to  reconcile  them, 
but  he  appropriately  sealed  his  success  by  ordering  th^ 
hind  to  strike  up  Money  Musk.'’  The  Lancers’^  arc 
a revival  after  many  long  years,  and  perhaps  we  may  soon 
have  a drawing-room  adaptation  of  the  Morris-dance 
The  only  advice  therefore  which  it  is  necessary  to  give 
t.r  those  who  wish  to  dance  the  polka  may  be  summed  up 
in  two  words,  ‘‘don’t,”  Not  so  with  the  galop.  The 
remarks  as  to  the  position  in  waltzing  apply  to  all  round 
dances,  and  there  is  therefore  little  to  add  with  regard  to 
the  galop,  except  that  it  is  a great  mistake  to  suppose  it 
to  be  a rapid  dance.  It  should  be  danced  as  slowly  as 
possible.  It  will  then  be  more  graceful  and  less  fatiguing 
It  is  danced  quite  slowly  in  Germany  and  on  the  flat  foot 
The  polka-mazurka  is  still  much  danced,  and  is  certainly 
very  graceful.  The  remarks  on  the  quadrille  apply 
equally  to  the  lancers,  which  are  great  favorites,  and 
threaten  to  take  the  place  of  the  former.  The  schottische, 
hop-waltz,  redowa,  varsovienne,  cellarius,  and  so  forth, 
have  had  their  day,  and  are  no  longer  danced  in  good 
society.  The  only  dance  I regret  is  the  German  cotillon, 
which  was  introduced  a few  years  ago,  but  not  approved 
English  people  made  a romp  of  it,  and  English  young 
ladies,  an  opportunity  for  marked  flirtation ; besides  which 
English  chaperons,  not  so  patient  as  the  same  class  cn  the 
Continent,  would  not  sit  through  it.  Well  I remembei 
the  long  hours  through  which  we  used  to  keep  it  up  in 
Germany,  while  mammas  and  aunts  were  dozing  behind 
fcboir  fans  and  how  vexed  we  were  when  its  varied  figures^ 


240 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS 


invented  often  on  the  spot,  came  to  an  end,  and  carriagos 
were  called  for. 

'file  calm  ease  wdiich  marts  the  man  of  gord  taste. 
G'okes  even  the  swdftest  dances  graceful  and  agreeahle. 
Vehemence  may  be  excused  at  an  election,  but  not  in  a 
biill-room.  I once  asked  a beautiful  and  very  clever  young 
iidy  how  she,  who  seemed  to  pass  her  life  with  books, 
mnaged  to  dance  so  well.  I enjoy  it,’*  she  replied; 

and  Avhen  I dance  I give  my  whole  mind  to  it.”  And 
she  was  quite  right.  Whatever  is  w^orth  doing  at  all,  is 
worth  doing  well ; and  if  it  is  not  beneath  your  dignity  to 
dance,  it  is  not  unworthy  of  your  mind  to  give  itself  for 
the  time,  wholly  up  to  it.  You  will  never  enjoy  dancing 
till  you  do  it  well ; and  if  you  do  not  enjoy  it,  it  is  folly 
to  dance.  But  in  reality  dancing,  if  it  be  a mere  trifle, 
is  one  to  which  great  minds  have  not  been  ashamed  to 
stoop.  Locke,  for  instance,  has  written  on  its  utility,  and 
speaks  of  it  as  manly,  which  was  certainly  not  Michal’s 
opinion,  when  she  looked  out  of  the  window  and  saw  her 
lord  and  master  dancing  and  playing.  Plato  recom- 
mended it,  and  Socrates  learned  the  Athenian  polka  of 
the  day,  when  quite  an  old  gentleman,  and  liked  it  very 
much.  Some  one  has  even  gone  the  length  of  calling  it 
‘‘the  logic  of  the  body;”  and  Addison  defends  himself 
for  making  it  the  subject  of  a disquisition.  If  I say  much 
more  I shall  have  to  do  ihe  same  as  Addison,  and  will 
therefore  pass  to  some  other  accomplishments  useful,  if  not 
necessary,  in  society. 

On  the  Continent  almost  every  boy  is  taught  to  play 
the  piano.  A very  false  principle  has,  till  lately,  kept 
Dur  men  from  all  the  softer  portion  of  life  ; manliness  was 
identified  with  roughness^  and  every  accomplishment  whicfi 


MUSIC. 


241 


was  suitable  tc  a woman,  was  considered  beneath  the  dig* 
nity  of  a man.  In  short,  it  is  not  fifty  years  ago  since 
to  hunt,  shoot,  and  drink  your  bottle  of  port,  formed  tlie 
)nly  accomplishments  necessary  for  male  society,  and  re- 
fuiement  did  not  extend  beyond  an  elegance  in  bowing,  in 
taking  snuff,  and  in  gallantry  to  the  ladies.  Left  to 
themselves,  men  were  ashamed  to  be  anything  better  than 
bears.  Fortunately  it  is  now  agreed  that  manliness  and 
refinement  are  not  opposed  to  one  another. 

I believe  that  there  is  a taste  for  music  in  every  child 
born,  and  that  if  it  disappears  in  after  life,  it  is  for  want 
of  cultivation  Was  there  ever  yet  a baby  wdiich  could 
not  be  sung  to  sleep  ? However  this  may  be,  to  play 
some  one  instrument  is  of  more  value  to  a man  than  at 
first  sight  appears.  To  the  character  it  is  a refiner. 
Music  is  the  medicine  of  the  soul ; it  soothes  the  wrinkles 
of  a hard  life  of  business,  and  lifts  us  from  thoaghts  of 
money,  intrigue,  enterprises,  anxieties,  hatred,  and  what 
not,  to  a calmer,  more  heavenly  frame  of  mind.  To  a 
man  himself,  therefore,  the  power  to  play  is  of  use.  He 
may  not  always  have  a sister,  wife,  or  daughter,  to  sing 
and  play  to  him  ; he  may  not  always  be  within  reach  of 
the  opera  and  concert  rooms,  and  then,  too,  half  the  en- 
joyment of  music  is  gone,  when  you  cannot  enjoy  it  as 
you  list,  and  of  what  kind  you  need,  gay  or  grave,  as 
your  fancy  lies.  It  is  an  indulgence  to  a pure  mind,  and 
if  is  one  of  those  few  indulgences  which  are  free  from 
Harm. 

But  besides  this,  a knowledge  of  music  is  valuable  to  a 
m in  in  the  society  both  of  his  own  and  the  other  sex.  It 
is  a great  recommendation  among  women,  and  vibrates  on 
a chord  of  sympathy  between  the  sexes,  when  possibly 
11 


242 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS.  - 


there  is  no  other.  Still  more  so  where  womm  are  not 
and  their  want  is  felt.  The  man  who  can  play  an  air  is 
a boon  to  the  camp,  the  college,  or  the  Inn  of  Co'irt 
Well  do  I remember  how  populai  Jones  was  for  his  piaiio, 
in  1 Smith  for  his  cornet,  at  St.  Boniface’s.  Yet  Jones 
Slid  Smith  were  very  dull  men  in  themselves,  and  ke|  t 
very  bad  wine.  What  did  we  care  ? We  did  not  want 
to  drink  with  our  mouths  when  we  could  do’ so  with  oui 
ears  But  if  instrumental  music  recommend  a man,  still 
more  the  cultivation  of  the  natural  musical  instrument. 
‘‘  He  can  tell  a good  story  and  sing  a good  song,”  is  al- 
most the  best  recommendation  one  bachelor  can  give  of 
another  in  a social  point  of  view,  and  if  you  can  sing  a 
good  ballad,  or  take  part  in  a duet,  quartett,  chorus,  oi 
what  not,  you  are  invaluable  in  an  evening  party. 

There  are,  however,  a few  points  to  be  attended  to  in 
connexion  with  playing  or  singing  in  public.  In  the  first 
place,  as  to  a choice  of  instrument.  The  piano  is  always 
acceptable,  but  however  good  a man’s  touch,  it  must  be 
remembered,  it  is  not  so  agreeable  in  a room  as  a lady’s. 
Every  other  instrument  should  be  accompanied  by  the 
piano,  so  that  unless  you  have  some  fair  friend  ready  tc 
play  for  you,  it  will  be  useless  to  take  your  instrument. 
But  under  the  most  fortunate  circumstances,  your  choice 
is  limited.  The  instrument  must  not  be  too  loud  or  too 
harsh  for  the  sensitive  tympanum  of  your  fair  audience. 
No  me  would  volunteer  a solo  rn  the  drum,  perhaps  ; bu? 
met  who  play  but  little,  will  sometimes  inflict  the  h mi* 
bots  01  co/'ne^-d-pts^o/is  on  th3ir  unhappy  listeners.;  lliesi? 
two  instruments,  and  indeed  every  species  of  horn^  can 
only  be  tolerated  in  a drawing-room  if  extremely  well 
played,  and  therefore  modulated.  On  the  other  hand,  if 


SINGING. 


243 


you  care  for  yoi.r  appearance,  you  will  scarcely  introduce 
the  violoncello.  The  fiddle  is  so  common  that  people 
will  not  care  for  it  unless  played  with  execution,  and  the 
flageolet  is  scarcely  worth  listening  to.  There  remains 
llie  flute,  and  the  guitar,  which  is  a good  accompaniment 
to  the  voice,  but  should  not  be  played  by  a stout  or  an  el 
derly  man.  Concerts  are  so  common  now,  and  first-iatt 
performers  so  easily  heard,  that  more  than  common  pro- 
ficiency will  be  expected  from  you  on  any  instrument  ex- 
cept the  piano,  and  you  should  tlierefbre  never  take  youi 
instrument  with  you  unless  particularly  requested  to  dc 
so  by  the  inviter,  nor  play  more  than  once  unless  pressed 
to  do  so  by  the  lady  of  the  house. 

If  you*  bave  a tenor  or  alto  voice,  a good  ear,  and  a 
knowledge  of  a few  songs,  you  need  never  be  afraid  of 
singing  in  public.  A barytone  being  commoner,  requires 
more  excellence  to  back  it,  and  a base  should  be  prohibit- 
ed, / think,  from  solo  exhibitions,  unless  very  good.  But 
be  the  voice  w^hat  it  may,  if  you  cannot  sing  in  tnne^ 
never  attempt  it.  Others  in  the  company  will  have  better 
ears  thqn  yourself,  and  politely  execrate  yon.  Time  k 
not  so  important,  unless  you  Join  a duet,  trio,  or  choruB. 
The  choice  of  songs  is  quite  as  essential  as  the  choice  of 
an  instrument.  A man  should  not  sing  women’s  dittios, 
and  should  never  yawl  out  the  namby-pamby  ballads  be- 
loved of  young  ladies  A really  honest  love-song,  in 
which  the  Avords  are  as  good  as  the  muvsic,  becomes  a tenoi 
or  barytone  well — scarcely  a basso.  On  the  other  hand 
the  too  fero(3ious  style  should  be  avoided.  Comic  songs 
as  a general  rule,  are  atrocious.  Their  want  of  wit  is 
not  atoned  for  by  the  presence  of  slang,  vulgarity,  jy  even 
coarseness.  They  are  usually  written  by  men  of  infenoi 


244 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS 


mind,  often  for  the  stage  or  public  entertainments.  arj:l 
are  purpos-ely  broad,  in  order  to  be  understood  by  a m.xcd 
audiei\ce.  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  have  essentially  3 
comic  face  and  manner,  and  can  sing  a parody,  or  a moie 
refined  comic  song  with  character,  you  may  attempt  it  lu 
liij  ir  parties.  In  men’s  society,  of  course,  the  com  c 
5ong  is  the  most  popular. 

A man  singing  before  ladies  must  remember  their 
nerves,  and  modulate  his  voice.  He  must  also  bear  in 
mind,  that  however  well  he  sings,  a lady’s  voice  is  more 
suited  to  a drawing-room.,  and  unless  pressed  to  do  so,  will 
content  himself  with  one  or  at  most  two  songs.  But  a 
man  should  not  allow  himself  to  be  pressed  too  much,  nor 
affect  diffidence  like  a young  miss  of  seventeen.  If  he 
has  not  sum^  or  played  before,  he  should  do  so  (if  he  can) 
without  hentation,  and  with  an  amiable  'willingness,  being 
confident  that  the  lady  of  the  house  desires  to  amuse  her 
guests  rather  than  to  flatter  him. 

In  general  society,  the  card-table  in  the  present  day  is 
Happily  reserved  for  elderly  people,  but  a young  man  may 
be  sometimes  called  upon  to  make  up  a rubber,  and  if  so 
he  would  mar  the  pleasure  of  others  if  he  were  not  able 
to  take  a hand.  At  the  same  time  it  is  generally  undei  - 
stood  that  ladies  and  young  men  should  not  be  asked  tu 
lo  so,  unless  absolutely  necessary,  and  if  a hostess  opens 
a card-table,  she  should  be  able  beforehand  to  select  a 
sufficient  and  suitable  number  of  players.  It  is  alway  i 
trying  to  see  ladies  play.  It  has  been  observed  thci 
women  have  oidy  two  passions,  love  and  avarice.  The 
latter  ill  becomes  them,  and  yet  so  strong  is  it,  that  thev 
can  rarely  conceal  it  at  the  card-table. 

Where  a number  of  guests  are  willing  to  play,  the  se 


MODERN  LANGUAGES 


245 


^ lection  is  made  by  drawing  cards,  and  the  higliest  drawers 
are  excluded  from  the  game.  At  whist  the  two  lowei 
and  two  higher  drawers  become  partners  respectively  , 
the  lowest  has  the  first  deal.  The  trial  of  temper  then 
ensues,  and  if  card  playing  has  no  other  virtue,  it  maj 
be  commended  as  a test  of  temper  and  good-breeding 
Lose  without  a murmur,  win  without  triumph.  Nevei 
insist  foo  sharply  on  fines,  and  be  ready  to  pay  on  the  spot 
If  unable  to  do  this,  you  should  pay  the  next  morning  at 
the  latest  It  is  always  allowable  to  man  or  lady  to  say, 
‘‘  I do  not  play,’’  and  the  words  are  understood  to  mean, 
that  though  able,  you  prefer  not  to  do  so.  If  a bad  play- 
er, you  will  do  w^ell  to  keep  aw^ay  from  the  table ; you 
have  a partner’s  interest  to  consult  as  well  as  your  own. 
As  a general  rule  in  good  society,  it  should  be  understood 
that  one  does  not  play  /or  money,  but  with  money.  The 
skill  rather  than  the  result  of  the  game  must  be  the  point 
of  interest. 

In  round  games,  which  are  patronized  by  people  whe 
have  not  the  accomplishments  to  supply  their  place,  or  the 
wit  to  do  without  them,  the  main  fault  to  be  avoided  is 
eagerness.  Of  single  games,  you  should  know  as  many 
as  possible.  The  finest  of  them  is  chess,  which  is  worthy 
of  any  man,  and  a spleniid  mental  exercise.  Without 
aspiring  to  be  a Morphy  or  a Staunton,  you  may  by  prac- 
tice and  thought  become  an  excellent  chess  player ; but 
the  game  is  not  a social  one,  and  requires  too  much  a]> 
traction  to  be  introduced  in  social  gatherings. 

Perhaps  the  most  useful  accomplishment  to  one’s  self 
is  a knowledge  of  languages.  Independent  of  the  great 
6uperiority  it  gives  you  in  travel,  and  the  wide  field  of 
literature  to  which  it  introduces  you,  you  are  liable  in 


246 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


really  gocd  society,  especially  in  high  London  circles,  u 
meet  with  foreigners  having  a very  slight  acquaintance 
with  English.  From  them  you  may  derive  a vast  amount 
Df  information,  turn  the  slow  current  of  your  associations 
^and  even  be  amused  more  than  by  any  conversation  wi-i 
your  own  countrymen.  The  most  patriotic  John  Bui 
now  admits  that  foreigners  understand  better  than  our- 
selves the  art  of  conversation,  and  though  we  may  accuse 
them  of  frivolity  among  themselves,  we  must  remembei 
that  in  English  society  their  first  desire  is  to  make  them- 
selves really  appreciated.  As  a rule,  too,  they  are  more 
interested  than  we  are  in  current  history,  and  whatever 
their  prejudices  or  their  ignorance,  you  will  rarely  meet 
with  a Frenchman,  Italian,  or  German,  from  whom  you 
may  not  gather  much  curious  information  which  will  serve 
you  elsewhere.  An  untravelled  man  is  always  at  som^, 
disadvantage  in  good  English  society,  where  almost  every 
one  but  himself  will  have  crossed  the  channel,  but  if  he 
has  a good  knowledge  of  continental  language  and  litera- 
ture, this  disadvantage  is  materially  diminished. 

An  accomplishment  much  overlooked  as  an  accomplish- 
ment, but  one  indispensable  to  good  society,  is  to  be  able 
to  talk  on  current  literature  and  passing  affairs.  Every 
gentleman  in  the  present  day  should  subscribe  to  a circu- 
lating library,  and  take  in  a London  newspaper.  Besides 
taking  in  the  latter,  he  should  read  it  with  judgment.  He 
should  be  able  to  form  and  give  an  opinion  independent  of 
party  prejudice  on  any  question  of  common  interest 
Whatever  his  views,  he  should  be  able  as  a man  of  sense 
and  in  order  to  be  agreeable,  to  look  on  them  independent- 
ly, to  support  them  reasonably,  or  abanion  them  grace* 
fully.  Politics,  and  even  religion,  can,  I rejoice  to 


CARVING. 


247 

be  discussed  in  the  present  day  without  inflammatiDri  and 
acerbity,  and,  though  the  latter  subject  is  better  avoided 
in  mixed  circles,  a thorough  gentleman  will  be  able  to  bow 
to  another’s  opinion,  and  to  put  forward  his  own  delicately 
mid  sensibly. 

There  is  one  more  accomplishment  which  is,  fortunately, 
6ist  falling  into  disuse  The  days  are  done  when  an 
awkward  servant  could  anoint  your  head  and  best  coat  with 
h whole  dishful  of  gravy,  or  an  unskilled  gentleman  might 
be  forced  to  bow  to  the  lady  on  his  right,  with : ‘‘Madam, 
ril  trouble  you  for  that  goose  in  your  lap.”  Bad  carv- 
ing used  to  spoil  three  good  things  on  the  part  of  the 
carver,  good  joints,  good  temper,  and  a good  digestion. 
Even  good  carving  marred  conversation,  and  to  short  men 
it  was  a positive  infliction,  for  I need  scarcely  say,  that 
under  no  circumstances  whatever  could  a man  be  permitted 
to  stand  up  to  carve*  But  because  the  carving  of  joints 
game,  &c.,  at  a side  table,  is  a foreign  custom  lately  intro- 
duced into  this  country,  there  are  people  still  found  patri 
otic  enough  to  prefer  carving  at  the  dinner- table.  “ I lik< 
the  good  old  English  custom,”  says  one;  “I  like  to  sei 
a host  dispensing  his  hospitality  himself;”  and  in.  the 
country,  where  some  hosts  prefer  meat  to  manners,  it  is 
still  retained.  But  I may  ask  whether  hospitality  con- 
sists more  in  severing  the  wings  from  a chicken’s  body, 
than  in  setting  all  your  guests  at  their  ease,  and  at  once 
leading  ofi*  the  conversation.  Does  it  demand  a distribu 
lion  of  good  morsels  rather  than  of  good  will  ? The  ad 
rocates  of  the  “ good  old  custom”'  may  be  reminded  again, 
that  in  former  days  it  was  the  hostess.^  not  the  host,  who 
dispensed  the  viands,  her  husband  being  occupied  with  a 
distribution  of  the  wine,  which  is  the  reason  why  the  ladj 


248 


ACC‘>MP]ilSHMENTS. 


Bat  at  the  head  of  the  table ; but  what  is  the  v Jue  of  an 
old  custom  universally  disregarded,  since  no  longer  the 
hostess,  but  the  guest  who  has  the  misfortune  to  take  he? 
in  to  dinner,  is  called  upon  to  play  the  part  of  butcher  ? 
Can  it  be  any  more  satisfactory  to  me  to  have  my  mutton 
sliced  by  a guest  than  by  the  butler  in  my  host’s  service? 

Another  argument  maliciously  advanced,  is  contained 
in  the  sneer : No,  no,  thank  you,  I like  to  see  my  din- 
ner, and  know  what  I am  eating.”  But  what  a slur  upon 
the  hospitality  of  your  host,  to  suppose  he  would  give  you 
« cat  for  a hare,  or  a puppy  for  a rabbit ! We  might  as 
well  insist  that  he  should  sup  our  port  before  we  drink  it^ 
test  there  should  be  poison  in  the  cup — a custom,  by  the 
way^  still  retained  in  Bavaria  where  the  kellnerinn^  or 
waitress,  who  brings  you  your  quart  of  beer,  invariably 
puts  it  to  her  mouth  before  she  hands  it  to  you.  But  there 
, is  a reason  for  that,  since  many  a soldier  in  the  Thirty 
fears’  War  was  poisoned  at  a beer-garden. 

Carving  is,  however,  still  common  at  small  parties  and 
family  dinners,  and  it  will  be  a happy  time  when  it  is 
abandoned  even  there.  I have  seen  many  an  unfortunate 
young  man  put  to  confusion  when  deputed  to  carve,  by  the 
anxious  looks  of  the  host  or  hostess,  and  have  even  heard 
such  atrociously  rude  remarks  as,  ‘‘Thomas,  bring  that 
fowl  to  me;  Mr.  Jones  seems  not  to  understand  it;”  nay, 
I have  seen  people  lose  their  temper  so  completely  at 
having  their  pet  dishes  hacked  by  the  unskilful,  as  to  pro 
iuce  an  awkward  silence  through  the  whole  company 
Then  too,  in  family  circles,  more  quarrels  are  to  be  traced 
to  a blunt  knife  or  a diflScult  dish,  than  even  to  milliners’ 
bills,  and  I stayed  for  a short  time  in  one  house,  whose 
master  at  last  got  into  a habit  of  losing  his  temper  ovei 


HINTS  ON  CARVING. 


24t^ 

tiie  joint,  which  he  carved  very  ill  at  all  times,  and  whero^ 
in  consequence,  dinner  was  more  dreaded  than  the  pillory. 
Indeed,  a.s  great  results  may  often  be  traced  to  the  mogt 
trifling  causes,  I am  convinced  that  half  the  domestic 
tyranny  of  the  British  paterfamilias,  and  much  of  tbs 
bickering  and  irritation  which  deprive  home  of  its  charms, 
may  be  traced  to  no  greater  cause  than  the  cutting  up  of 
a joint.  The  larger  the  family  the  greater  the  misery  of 
the  carver,  who  has  scarcely  helped  them  all  round,  before 
the  first  receiver  has  done  and  is  ready  for  a second  help- 
ing. When  at  last  the  hungry  father  or  elder  brother  can 
secure  a mouthful,  he  must  hurry  over  it,  at  the  risk  of 
lyspepsia,  in  order  not  to  keep  the  others  waiting. 

But  we  are  a nation  of  conservatives,  and  a custom  which 
lescended  from  the  days  when  a knight  would  stick  hia 
dagger  into  a leg  of  mutton,  which  he  held  by  the  knuckle- 
bone (hence  the  frill  of  white  paper  still  stuck  round  it. 
to  slop  in  the  gravy  and  look  disgusting  before  the  joint  ii 
removed),  and  carve  him  a good  thick  slice  Avithout  more 
ceremony,  will  not  soon  be  got  rid  of,  however  great  a 
nuisance.  It  is  therefore  necessary,  if  you  would  avoid 
irritation,  black  looks,  and  even  rude  speeches,  to  know 
h m to  carve  at  a friend’s  table,  whatever  you  may  do  at 
y.ur  own.  When  thus  situated,  the  following  hints  will 
be  found  risefuL 

HINTS  ON  CARVING  AND  HELPING. 

1.  Sfoup  is  helped  with  a ladle.  Take  care  that 
lervant  holds  the  plate  close  to  the  tureen,  and  distribute 
&ne  ladleful  to  each  person. 

2.  Pis/i  is  cut  with  a large  flat  silver  kni^e  or  fish^ 
iliee,  never  with  a common  one.  Of  small  fish,  you  send 

*11 


260 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


one  to  each  person.  All  the  larger  flat  fish,  such  as  tur* 
hot,  John  Dorey,  brills,  &c.,  must  be  first  cut  from  head 
to  tail  down  the  middle,  and  then  in  portions  from  thiscu’ 
to  the  fin,  which  being  considered  the  best  part,  is  helped 
with  the  rest.  Fried  soles,  on  the  other  hand,  are  iim}  i 
cut  across,  dividing  the  bone.  The  shoulder  is  the  boa 
parv,  and  should  be  first  helped.  Salmon,  being  laid  on 
the  side,  is  cut  down  the  middle  of  the  upper  side,  and  then 
across  from  the  back  to  the  belly.  A boiled  mackerel 
serves  for  four  people.  The  fish-knife  is  passed  from  tail 
to  head  under  the  upper  side,  which  is  then  divided  into  two 
Cod  is  always  crossways,  and  a small  piece  of  the  sound 
sent  with  each  helping. 

3.  Joints  are  helped  with  a steel  fork,  of  which,  if 
you  value  your  fingers,  you  will  take  care  that  the  guard 
is  raised,  and  a carving  knife,  which  for  the  sake  of  your 
neighbor’s  teeth,  if  you  do  not  care  for  your  own,  you 
will  never  yourself  sharpen.  Let  us  premise  that  the 
butcher  and  cook  must  assist  the  carver,  and  that  an  ill- 
cut  or  ill-jointed  joint  augments  terribly  the  torture  of 
the  dispenser.  It  must  also  be  premised  that  there  ar« 
more  w^ays  than  one  of  cutting  the  same  joint,  that  some- 
times one,  sometimes  another  is  preferred,  and  that  one 
way  will  often  be  the  more  economical,  another  the  more 
elegant.  Happy  age  when  the  butler  shall  have  the  re- 
sponsibility of  pleasing  both  the  master  and  mistress  of 
the  house,  who  invariably  differ  when  there  is  an  alter- 
native ! 

The  roast  heef  of  Old  England,  on  which  our  glory  is 
said  to  fatten  and  our  pluck  to  thrive,  appears  on  well  • 
kept  tables  in  two  forms  only.  The  sirloin  has  an  upper 
and  under  cut,  about  which  tastes  differ.  It  is  therefore 


HINTS  ON  CARVING. 


251 


ftsuai  to  begin  with  the  upper  or  thicker  side.  The  joint 
muttt  lie  with  its  chine  bone  towards  the  left,  and  its  flaj 
tc  the  right  of  the  carver.  It  must  be  held  steady  hi 
inserting  the  fork  near  the  flat-bone.  (It  may  here  be  re 
marked,  that  in  all  carving  the  fork  should  never  be  left 
Sticking  in  the  meat,  but  withdrawn  with  the  knife ; not 
should  it  evei  be  stuck  in  perpendicularly  and  grasped 
with  the  whole  hand.)  One  long  deep  cut  must  then  be 
made  across  the  joint  close  to  the  chine-bone.  The  out- 
side is  next  sliced  off  from  the  chine-bone  to  the  flap,  and 
you  then  proceed  to  cut  the  meat  in  very  thin  slices  in 
the  same  direction.  A slice  of  the  fat  on  the  flap  must 
be  given  with  each  helping.  If  the  under  cut  is  asked 
for^  you  must  carefully  turn  the  joint  so  as  not  to  splash 
the  gravy — another  of  the  fearful  responsibilities  of  carv- 
ing— and  then  cut  the  meat  across  in  thick  slices.  A 
round  of  beef  is  easily  carved  till  you  come  to  the  skew- 
ers, and  then  agony  commences  ; and  what  with  the  im- 
possibility of  drawing  them  out  with  the  hand,  the  diffi- 
culty of  doing  so  with  the  fork,  and  the  quivering  looseness 
of  the  joint  when  the  arrow  is  at  last  extracted  from  its 
wretched  flesh,  a round  with  a round  of  beef  is  a more 
trying  combat,  than  successive  rounds  with  the  cook  whd 
skewered,  the  butler  who  served,  and  the  host  who  com- 
pelled you  to  carve  it.  However  let  us  hope  for  the  best; 
there  is  good  in  all,  even  skewers ; and  let  us,  inserting 
0ur  fork  firmly  into  the  enemy’s  side,  cut  his  brown  top 
iff  with  a horizontal  slice  of  our  long  sharp  steel  the 
linger  and  sharper  the  better  for  this  joint,  and  proceed 
to  torture  him  by  making  a succession  of  very  thin  slices, 
of  which  one  is  enough  for  any  guest,  except  an  alderman 
Boiled  be°.f  is  more  favored  at  dining-houses  in  the 


252 


ACCOMPLISHME^S  lb. 


City  than  at  company  dinners  at  the  West  En  l.  Th« 
side  is  cut  in  very  thin  slices,  which  should  be  as  broad 
and  as  long  as  the  joint  itself,  if  you  can  cut  them  so. 

Mutton  appears  generally  in  three  forms.  The  saddh^ 
is  the  best  joint,  and  is  best  cut  in  very  thin  slices  dost 
tc  the  back-bone ; or  you  may  slice  it  horizontally  froir 
the  tail  to  the  other  end  ; or  again  slanting  from  the  back* 
bone  towards  the  fat,  so  that  each  slice  shall  carry  its 
own  end  of  fat.  A shoulder  of  mutton  must  lie  with  the 
knuckle  towards  your  right,  and  the  blade-bone  towards 
your  left.  In  the  middle  of  the  edge  of  the  part  farthesi 
from  you  place  the  fork,  and  there  give  one  sharp  dexte- 
rous cut  from  the  edge  to  the  bone.  The  meat  then  flies 
open,  and  you  proceed  to  cut  rather  thick  slices  on  each 
side  of  the  opening  till  you  can  cut  no  more.  You  may 
then  cut  three  or  four  slices  from  the  centre-bone  to  the 
end,  and  if  there  are  more  mouths  to  be  filled,  of  which 
your  own,  of  course,  will  be  one,  you  must  turn  the  joint 
over  and  slice  the  under  side.  The  same  shoulder  of 
mutton  is  a disgrace  to  a sheep,  for  do  what  you  will,  you 
can  never  get  enough  off  it.  Much  more  satisfactory  is 
the  animals  leg.  In  the  bosom  of  your  own  family,  wh^jn 
funds  are  low  and  butcher’s  bills  high,  the  best  plan  is  to 
begin  at  the  knuckle,  cutting  across  in  thick  slices,  and 
80  on  to  the  top.  But  if  your  wife  puts  up  with  a knuckle 
slice,  your  guests  will  not,  and  in  company  you  must 
therefore  begin  in  the  middle  The  knuckle  should  point 
towards  your  left.  You  then  cut  from  the  side  farther 
from  you  towards  yourself,  thus  opening  the  joint  in  the 
middle,  and  proceed  to  take  thin  slices  on  the  right,  which 
Bome  people  prefer,  and  thick  slices  towards  the  knuckle 
The  little  tuft  of  fat  near  the  thick  end  is  a delicacy,  an< 
must  be  distributed  as  such. 


HINTS  ON  CAKVING, 


25S 


The  lamb,  disti^irbed  in  its  gambols,  furnishes  our  ruth' 
less  appetites  with  two  quarters  (a  fore  and  a hind) , a 
saddle,  which  is  carved  like  a saddle  of  its  elder  relative, 
mutton,  and  a loin  which  must  be  divided  into  chops. 
The  fore  quarter  consists  of  a shoulder,  a breast,  and  tl  € 
ribs  which  are  served  without  separation,  and  the  carver 
has  therefore  the  pleasure  of  turning  butcher  for  the  time. 
This  he  does  by  placing  the  knife  under  the  shoulder, 
drawing  it  horizontally,  and  so  removing  the  shoulder  al- 
together. This  limb  is  generally  placed  on  a separate 
dish,  and  carved  like  a shoulder  of  mutton.  You  have 
then  to  cut  off  the  breast,  and  finally  separate  the  ribs. 
The  hind  quarter  consists  of  a leg  and  a loin,  the  former 
being  cut  across,  the  latter  lengthways. 

Veal  gives  us  a head,  breast,  and  fillet.  If  the  first  of 
these  appears  in  its  normal  form,  not  having  been  boned 
and  rolled,  you  must  cut  it  down  the  centre  in  rather 
thin  slices  on  each  side.  The  meat  round  the  eye,  a deli- 
cacy, may  be  scooped  out.  A small  piece  of  the  palate 
and  the  accompanying  sweetbread  must  be  sent  on  each 
plate.  A fillet  of  veal  is  simply  cut  in  slices,  which  musi^ 
not  be  too  thin ; and  the  stuffing  in  the  centre  should  be 
helped  with  a spoon.  In  a breast  of  veal  the  ri1)s  should 
bo  first  separated  from  the  brisket,  after  which  either  or 
both  may  be  sent  round. 

Roast  pork  is  not  often  seen  on  good  tables  When  il 
appears  it  is  as  easy  to  carve  as  a leg  of  mutton,  but  the 
slices  should  be  thicker  and  not  so  large.  Two  very  suiall 
slices  are  enough  for  an  epicure  ; let  those  who  like  it  eat 
more.  The  best  part  of  roast  pork  is  the  crackling,  if  it 
has  been  roasted  with  buttered  paper  over  it.  Boiled 
pork  like  boiled  mutton,  is  only  to  be  toleratea  for  the 


254 


accomplishments. 


Bake  of  its  proper  accompaniments,  but  the  taste  for  pease- 
pudding, unlike  that  for  caper  sauce,  can  only  be  acquired 
by  a long  residence  in  this  country.  Both  these  joijits 
are  carved  like  a roasted  leg  of  mutton.  The  waiter  a: 
a hotels  who,  when  a Hebrew  gentleman  ordered  pork 
chops,’’  considerately  and  delicately  returned  with  poach 
ed  eggs,  was  a man  of  taste  as  well  as  of  breeding,  and 
knew  that  it  takes  much  to  make  pork  palatable.  Not  so, 
however,  with  ham  and  hacon^  which  are  meats  to  warm 
the  cockles  of  the  heart,  even  of  a Pharisee  of  the  Phari- 
sees, and  while  to  enjoy  the  former  one  would  always  be 
rich,  one  could  be  content  to  be  poor  for  the  sake  of  the 
latter.  Alas  ! because  bacon  is  a poor  man’s  luxury,  the 
rich,  or  their  vulgar  cooks,  will  never  admit  it,  or  very 
rarely.  It  must  be  cut  as  thin  as  a lady’s  vail,  and  in 
delicate  long  strips  rather  than  slices.  A ham  may  be 
cut  in  thred  ways,  by  beginning  either  at  the  knuckle, 
which  must  be  turned  towards  your  left,  and  slicing  in  a 
slanting  direction ; or  at  the  thick  end,  which  is  then 
turned  to  your  left ; or,  in  the  commonest  manner,  like  a 
leg  of  mutton,  across  the  centre.  In  any  case  it  must  be 
cut  in  very  thin,  delicate  slices,  such  as  the  waiters  of 
now  dafunct  Vauxhall  won  their  fame  for,  and  such  as,  to 
this  day,  few  people  but  the  owner  of  a London  cook- 
shop  can  achieve.  One  small  slice  is  enough  as  an  ac- 
companiment to  a helping  of  fowl  or  veal. 

Last  of  the  joints  comes  their  best,  the  haunch  of  Fewi- 
To  carve  this  the  knuckle  should  be  turned  towards 
your  right  hand,  and  above  it  a rapid  cross  cut  made.  A 
cut  lengthways  from  the  other  end  to  the  cross  cut,  should 
divide  the  meat  about  the  middle,  and  slices  of  moderate 
thickness  aie  then  to  be  taken  or.  each  side  of  the  long 


HINTS  ON  CARVING. 


255 


cut ; those  on  the  left  are  the  best,  having  the  most  fat 
about  them. 

You  are  now  wishing  that  edible  animals  grew  like  pil 
lows,  to  be  sliced  up  like  roly-poly  puddings,  and  would 
dispense  for  ever  with  the  inconvenience  of  limbs,  legs, 
rboulders,  saddles,  haunches,  loins,  sirloins,  breasts,  ribs, 
fore-quarters  and  hind-quarters.  But  you  cannot  have 
everything.  If  meat  grew  on  trees  it  would  not  be  worth 
eating ; it  is  the  exercise  of  the  animal  which  makes  it 
tender  and  savory ; while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  best 
meat  is  generally  t’"  nearest  to  the  bone.  The  only 
riddle  which  Sir  Edward  Lytton  was  ever  guilty  of  per- 
petrating was  this : Why  is  a cat’s  taste  better  than  a 
dog’s  ? Because  the  dog’s  is  hon  (bone),  but  the  cat’s  is 
mieux  (mew).”  With  all  deference  to  Sir  Edward,  1 
must  give  my  opinion  that  the  dog  has  the  best  taste  of 
aill  animals,  which  he  displays  in  his  preference  for  bones, 
well  knowing  that  the  meat  nearest  to  them  is  always  the 
most  savory. 

However  this  may  be,  you  have  not  done  yet ; indeed, 
you  have  the  worst  to  come,  and  there  is  fresh  torture 
for  the  carver  in — 

4.  Animals  served  whole.  You  may  perhaps  mastei 
a Rabbity  because  he  may  be  treated  like  Damien,  who 
was  broken  on  the  wheel,  by  removing  the  legs  and  shoul- 
ders with  a sharp-pointed  knife,  and  then  breaking  his 
back  in  three  or  four  pieces  by  pressing  the  knife  acroaa 
it  and  pushing  the  body  up  against  it  with  the  fork  but 
when  you  come  to  that  long,  thin,  dark,  and  scraggy  ani- 
mal, which  with  its  crisp  delicate  ears  sticking  up,  and 
the  large  sockets  where  its  eyes  once  were,  looks  lik« 
roasted  bottle-imp,  rather  than  roasted  Hare,  what  art 


266 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


you  to  do,  unless  the  cook  has  been  skiltul  enough  U 
bone  it  foi  you  ? You  must  first  take  care  that  youi 
knife  has  a sharp  strong  point  to  it.  and  therewith,  hav- 
ing the  head  of  the  hare  towards  your  left  you  will  cut 
off  the  legs, — to  wit,  the  hind  legs,  for  carving  and  nut 
Ural  history  differ  in  this  matter,  the  latter  asserting  that 
the  hare  is  a quadruped,  the  former  that  it  has  only  two 
legs,  and  two  wings.'’  You  will  then  cut  two  long 
thin  slices  off  each  side  of  the  back ; then  take  off  the 
wings”  or  shoulders;  then  break  the  back  into  four 
pieces  with  the  aid  of  the  fork ; then  cut  off  the  ears,  and 
lastly,  turning  the  head  towards  you  with  the  under  side 
uppermost^  insert  the  point  of  the  knife  exactly  in  the 
centre  of  the  palate,  and  drawing  it  to  the  nose,  thus  di- 
vide it  into  two  parts.  If  you  do  all  this  without  splash- 
ing the  gravy,  you  may  take  your  degree  in  carving.  But 
to  help  a hare  is  more  diplomatic  still  than  to  carve  it. 
The  difficulty  is  to  find  enough  for  everybody  who  wants 
it.  The  best  parts  are  the  slices  from  the  back,  the  head 
and  ears.  Never,  however,  send  head  or  ears  to  a lady. 
There  is  a good  reason  for  this,  which  1 won’t  tell  you 
But  if  there  is  a minister  in  office  at  table,  and  you 
want  to  ask  him  for  a place,  or  there  is  a father  whose 
daughter’s  hand  you  aspire  to,  or  an  uncle  who  may  pos- 
sibly leave  you  a legacy,  it  is  for  him  that  you  reserve 
half  the  face,  and  one  if  not  both  ears.  If  he  be  at  all  a 
curmet^  you  will  get  his  ear  by  sending  him  puss’s,  and 
the  delicate  brain  of  the  animal  will  fully  compensate  for 
a wank  of  it  in  your  own  head. 

A fowl,  if  not  in  its  premi  re  jeunesse,  is  more  irri- 
tating still  than  a hare,  because  you  feel  that  when  you 
have  done  your  best,  the  flesh  is  not  worth  eating,  except 


HINTS  ON  CARVIN3. 


251 


at  supper  There  are  two  ways  of  beginning  Eithen 
take  the  leg,  wing,  and  part  of  breast  off  with  one  cut 
after  having  laid  the  bird  on  its  side : or,  allowing  it  t<b 
remain  on  its  back,  with  the  breast  and  wings  to  war  id 
you,  and  the  legs  away  from  you,  insert  the  knife  in  tlit 
side  of  the  breast  above  the  leg,  and  bring  it  down  to  tlif 
joint  of  the  wing,  which  is  thus  removed  with  a slic*^  oi 
the  breast.  The  liver  wing,  which  lies  to  your  right,  is 
the  best,  and  should  be  taken  oflF  first.  This  done,  insert 
the  knife  just  at  the  turn  of  the  breast,  bring  it  down, 
and  you  have  the  merry-thought.  The  meat  of  the  breast 
is  then  easily  sliced  off,  the  legs  having  been  turned 
back  with  the  fork.  The  side-bones  come  off  next,  in  a 
moment,  if  you  insert  the  knife  or  fork  in  the  right  place, 
viz.,  under  the  angular  joint,  and  turn  them  out.  The 
back  is  then  broken  by  lifting  it  with  the  fork  against  the 
pressure  of  the  knife,  and  lastly,  the  sides  are  removed. 
The  wing,  breast,  and  merry-thought  are  the  best  pieces  ; 
the  legs  and  sides  are  insulting.  The  great  point  in 
carving  a fowl  is  to  do  it  quickly,  and  with  the  /ori  as 
much,  if  not  more  than,  the  knife. 

A 'partridge  is  carved  like  a fowl,  but  the  legs  being 
joined,  are  simply  turned  back  with  the  knife  before  the 
operation  commences.  A pheasant  is  carved  like  a fowl. 
Pigeons  are  not  carved  at  all,  but  cut  in  two  down  the 
middle ; the  eater  kindly  saving  the  carver  any  furthei 
trouble.  Snipe  is  treated  in  the  same  way  and  smallei 
birds  are  always  sent  round  one  to  each  person. 

Of  a goose  or  a turkey  we  are  told  it  is  vulgar  ” t<? 
cut  more  than  the  breast,  but  there  can  be  no  vulgarity 
In  making  a good  dinner,  and  in  the  family  circle  yor 
will  be  obliged  to  apply  to  the  wings  and  legs.  However 


258 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


for  coinpanjj  slices  of  the  breast  suffice.  The  same 
thing  is  said  of  the  wild-duck,  that  best  of  birds;  but  we 
did  not  think  so  at  Oxford,  where  we  never  left  anything 
more  than  their  carcasses.  The  most  productive  bird  is 
the  Scotch  and  Swedish  capercailzie.  I have  known  one 
satisfy  fourteen  large  appetites  one  day,  three  heavy 
eaters  the  second,  and  what  with  hashing,  grilling,  devil- 
ling, and  picking,  last  tho  original  purchaser  a whole 
week  for  breakfast  afterwards.  It  might  perhaps  be 
vulgar’’  to  carve  such  a bird  as  that;  little  less  sn 
dban  offering  a lady  a leg  of  ostrich. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


FEMININE  ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 

An  English  lady  without  her  piano,  or  her  pencil,  or  hei 
&ncy  work,  or  her  favorite  French  authors  and  German 
poets^  is  an  object  of  wonder,  and  perhaps  of  pity.  Mu- 
sic, the  cultivation  of  which  was,  at  one  time,  severely 
censured  as  being  carried  to  excess,  has  now  become  a 
national  want.  Painting,  and  even  modelling,  are  not 
only  pursued  iu  the  quiet  of  home,  they  furnish  subjects 
for  an  amateur  exhibition.  No  woman  can  be  wholly 
fitted  as  a member  of  society,  unless  she  can  dance  well ; 
and  to  work  neatly  and  skilfully  at  fancy  work,  is  one  of 
the  attributes  of  good  female  society. 

We  are  not,  W8  English,  a nation  of  talkers ; natu- 
rally, our  talent  is  for  silence.  The  few  who  distinguished 
themselves  in  conversational  powers  have  died  out  among 
us,  and  their  places  will  never,  we  have  every  reason  to 
believe,  be  filled  up. 

“ The  seat  is  vacant — ^whereon  Conversation 
Sharpe  gave  forth  such  studied  bon 

or  culled  from  the  treasures  of  his  vast  memory  the  tit 
bits  of  old  authors.  Lady  Morgan  who,  as  she  “ circu- 
lated’’ through  a party,  to  use  her  own  expression,  de- 
lighted both  wise  and  simple,  by  her  ever  ready  flow  of 

(259^ 


zt)0 


FEMININE  ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


words,  and  richness  of  anecdote  and  repartee,  in  gone 
and  /^er  throne  is  vacant. 

The  salon,  which  she  collected  around  her,  wa2,  !n  ite 
capacity  of  passing  hours  in  talking,  more  French  than 
English ; she  its  centre.  We  shall  never  see  the  like 
again ; the  world  is  too  large,  and  we  are  too  rich.  Elo- 
quence, even,  went  out  with  metal  buttons  and  white 
waistcoats : the  House  of  Commons  is  only  bored  by  it 
now  ; the  Lords  are  proud  and  thankful  to  say  they  never 
encouraged  it.  Eloquence,  which  is  to  conversation  what 
the  garden  flower  is  to  the  wild  flower,  the  hot-house 
grape  to  the  poor  sour  thing  that  grows  on  the  cottagf^ 
walls — eloquence,  which  is  but  condensed  conversation, 
with  all  the  essence  of  many  minds  in  one,  is  regarded 
in  these  practical  days  only  as  an  interruption. 

It  therefore  becomes  more  and  more  essential  that  ther** 
should  be  some  talent  to  supply  the  want  of  good  conver 
sation.  And,  for  that  end,  there  is  nothing  like  music. 

Music  is,  I repeat,  the  substitute,  and  the  only  one,  for 
conversational  powers.  It  has  its  merits  in  that  light. 
Conversation  sometimes  aggravates  temper:  music  soothe* 
it  Conversation  challenges  reply  : music  gives  no  an- 
swer. Conversation  is  the  rock  of  peril  to  the  impudent : 
they  can  scarcely,  in  playing  or  singing,  commit  an  indis 
cretion.  In  talking,  again,  one  may  lose  a friend,  or  even 
make  an  enemy.  Music  is,  therefore,  an  excellent  source 
af  amusement  for  many  occasions,  and  is  become  almost  in 
dispensable  to  those  who  have  frequently  parties  to  re 
eeive.  A lively  waltz,  or  a soft  movement,  carefully 
played,  even  without  that  great  execution  which  comp  eh 
listening,  are  often  aids  to  conversation  : it  flows  the  more 
^sily  from  that  slight  and  agreeable  interruntion.  Jt  n?ip 


MUSIC. 


261 


inJeedj  still  greater  advantages  : this  world  of  ours  has  its 
work  and  its  troubles ; a parent  or  husband  may  leave 
home  from  either  or  from  both,  to  find  a solace  in  music 
which  changes  the  current  of  his  ideas.  A brother  may 
be  almost  made  domestic  by  the  cheerful  notes,  which  he 
finds  pass  the  evening  almost  as  rapidly  as  the  club,  oi 
J allien’s,  or  the  theatre.  Few  persons  are  wholly  devoid 
of  a capacity  for  enjoying  music,  and  even,  if  not  gifted 
with  any  great  natural  taste,  a love  of  the  art  may  almost 
be  engrafted  on  the  nature  by  early  associations.  And 
those  associations,  too,  have  their  value.  The  air  that 
brings  back  home-born  thoughts,  brings  back  in  some  de- 
gree the  absent,  the  kind,  the  forbearing,  the  loving,  ihe 
honored. 

The  piano  still  keeps  its  pre-eminence  as  the  instrument 
best  fitted  for  society.  The  harp,  it  is  to  be  regretted, 
has  for  some  years  ceased  to  be  fashionable ; perhaps  thj 
greater  attention,  in  modern  times,  to  physical  education 
has  banished  the  harp  from  the  school-room.  There  is 
every  risk  of  the  practising  on  this  instrument  producing 
curvature  of  the  spine ; whereas  the  piano,  from  exercis- 
ing both  hands  at  a time,  and  from  the  straight  posture  it 
requires,  is  useful  to  those  disposed  to  such  curvatures. 
Duets  on  the  harp  and  piano  are,  nevertheless,  very  de- 
lightful ; and  they  used  to  produce  a good  effect  in  a Large 
room,  when  two  sisters,  or  a professional  lady  and  her 
young  pupil,  a daughter  of  the  house,  opened  the  evening’s 
imusement  with  one  of  those  exquisite  Italian  airs,  set  by 
Bochsa  or  Chatterton.  Simple  melodies,  sung  to  the  hai'j) 
are  still  very  effective  in  society  from  their  variety.  A 
harp  requires  a large  room  it  should  be  played  with  feel 


262 


FEMALE  ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


ing  and  grace,  or  it  becomes  very  unpleasant,  like  the 
jingling  of  a hired  band.  It  requires  stout  nerves,  cer 
tainly  for  the  display  necessary  to  execute  an  air  on  th 
harp  perched  on  a high  stool,  and  forming  a pleasing 
object,  as  well  as  being  the  vehicle  of  sweet  sounds  to  the 
whole  company. 

The  guitar  makes  a graceful  variety : but  is  more  ap 
propriate  to  a man’s  than  to  a woman’s  playing.  It  is 
monotonous,  and  soon  fatigues  the  attention  ; but,  being 
easily  portable,  is  often  a resource  in  places  and  on  occa- 
eions  where  a piano  cannot  be  had. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  the  zitter,  one  of  the  sweetest 
and  most  touching  of  string  instruments ; but  still,  except 
for  the  occasional  playing  of  Tyrolean  minstrels,  unknown 
in  this  country.  It  is  of  Bavarian  origin,  and  is  the  oldest 
instrument  known.  Its  plaintive  and  appealing  sounds  are 
heard  in  Alpine  chalets,  or  by  the  forester’s  fireside,  as  weD 
as  in  the  country  revels  of  the  inhabitants  of  Vienna,  Inn- 
spruck,  and  Munich.  It  is  exquisite  as  an  accompaniment 
of  the  voice  ; it  is  cheap  and  portable.  A good  zitter  may 
be  obtained  for  thirty  shillings  or  two  pounds.  It  is  flat, 
and  takes  up  little  room,  and  should  be  placed  horizon- 
tally on  a table,  without  a cover.  It  requires,  however, 
time  and  much  practice  to  bring  out  those  thrilling  tones, 
at  once  so  touching  and  so  peculiar.  The  most  emineni 
professors  in  Germany  speak  highly  of  the  powers  of  this 
snj3ll  instrument,  and  say  that  it  produces  notes  nearer  to 
tliose  of  the  human  voice  than  any  other.  Yet  it  is  not 
calculated  for  large  concerts  : we  English  must  have  noise 
and  show.  The  zitter  is  an  instrument  for  the  boudoir^ 
for  lovers  in  a bower,  for  the  poet  in  his  turret,  for 


MUSICAL  INSTRUMENIS.  26^ 

(he  devotee  to  all  that  is  soft,  romantic,  and  unsophisti- 
cated. 

It  seems  scarcely  needful  to  point  to  the  violin  and 
doloucello  as  instruments  unsuitable  to  young  ladies ; yet 
there  have  been  women  who  have  successfully  cultivatoc 
both,  to  the  great  credit  of  their  perseverance,  and  tlu 
great  detriment  of  their  feminine  attractions.  The  con 
certina  is,  however,  a beautiful  and  not  inappropriate  in- 
strument, though  I confess  the  inelegance  of  the  attitude 
required  much  lessens  the  sentiment  inspired  by  the  beau 
tifiil  tones  of  the  concertina. 

Nothing  requires  greater  judgment,  if  not  some  expe- 
rience of  society,  than  the  selection  of  pieces  to  play  in 
company.  “ Oh  ! how  my  head  ached  last  night !’’  cries 
an  old  lady;  ‘^w’^ehad  a piece  six  pages  long  Some 
ladies  sit  down  (as  it  seems)  with  an  intention  of  giving 
it  rein’’  for  their  hearers.  Through  passage  after  pas- 
sage, volleys  of  black  notes  are  made  to  speak,  and,  as 
page  after  page  is  turned  over  by  a zealous  friend,  the 
young  musician  labors  at  it,  and  does  herself  justice,  and 
her  hearers  a wrong : for  a long  piece  is  as  bad  as  a long 
story,  and  neither  are  fitted  for  society.  A short,  perhaps 
brilliant,  thoroughly  well-learned  air  or  movement  by 
some  good  master,  is  the  best  response  to  the  often  put 
question,  Will  you  play  something?”  The  loud,  thump- 
ing style  should  be  avoided : if  possible,  the  piece  should 
not  be  quite  common  and  hackneyed ; not  what  “ every 
one’’  plays.  It  should  not  be  too  mournful,  nor  too  rapid. 
()n  sitting  down  to  the  piano,  it  is  very  offensive  to  hear 
ft  young  lady  find  fault  with  the  instrument,  or  complain 
tliat  it  is  out  of  tune — a proof  either  that  her  temper  il 


264 


FEMININE  ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


out  of  tune,  or  that  she  wishes  to  impress  on  you  the  m 
periority  of  her  ear,  which  detects  the  defect  to  yours 
wliich  has  stupidly  overlooked  it.  All  self-assertion,  be  ii 
about  music,  or  singing,  or  dancing,  or  anything,  is  un 
phMisant,  and  always  seen  through.  There  is  a cer^'lifi 
art  too,  in  sitting  at  the  piano : all  movements  of  the  l>,‘dj 
should  be  avoided : well-bred  people  play  without  tlit3m, 
and  they  are  unpleasant  to  those  sitting  behind.  Be  ready 
also  to  quit  the  instrument  after  finishing  : in  some  cases, 
when  once  seated,  ladies  seem  to  be  glued  to  the  piano, 
and  however  fascinating  may  be  their  efforts,  it  is  bad 
policy  to  wear  your  audience  out.  Then  another  hint  to 
the  amateur  musician  : be  lenient,  at  all  events,  and  en 
couraging,  if  you  can,  to  others.  There  is  no  need  to 
flatter  ; but  great  reason,  especially  to  those  who  play  well, 
to  be  amiable  on  this,  as  on  other  points.  A little  kindli- 
ness, a polite  attention  to  the  feelings  of  ^others,  wdns  many 
a friend ; for  we  are  governed  by  the  trifles  of  life. 

Almost  every  well-educated  lady  can  play  a little ; but 
that  is  not  the  case  in  respect  to  vocal  music.  Whether 
it  be  owing  to  English  climate  or  English  constitution, 
there  is  no  saying ; but  there  is  nothing  more  rare  than  a 
good  voice.  It  may,  however,  provided  the  ear  be  good, 
be  almost  acquired ; but  then  the  best  instruction  must  be 
obtained  ; a dozen  good  lessons,  taken  not  too  soon,  but 
whenever  the  voice  is  formed,  and  the  young  lady  play& 
well  are  far  more  beneficial  than  a long  course  of  inferioi 
teaching.  It  is  important  that  a young  lady  should  not 
begin  to  sing  in  society  too  soon  ; it  is  objectionable  tc 
hear  a learner,  whose  performance  speaks  of  the  school 
room  • it  is  far  worse,  however,  to  be  condemned  to  listen 
to  a voice  that  is  passed  of  which  the  best  notes  are 


SINGINK. 


2G.'< 

cracked  or  feeble ; and  there  is  sometning  absurd  in  hearing 
a stoui  matron — 

“ A mother  with  her  daughters  or  her  nieces, 

Looking  like  a guinea,  with  her  seven  shilling  pieces.’^ 

u Byron  impertinently  has  it — singing  with  bygone  em 
phasis  about  love ; or  a thin  spinster,  of  forty  or  mor^ , 
holding  forth  in  such  songs  as  I’ll  watch  for  thee,”  O’^', 
‘‘  Don’t  forget  me.”  Instrumental  music  is  appropriata 
to  any  age,  but  after  forty  the  voice  loses  the  delicious 
freshness  of  youth,  the  style  is  no  longer  that  of  the  day, 
ind  even  the  finest  amateur  vocal  performers  have  lost 
something,  we  scarcely  know  what,  but  something  we  miss 
painfully. 

When  asked  to  sing,  if  you  do  not  intend  to  do  ao,  re- 
fuse so  decidedly  that  you  cannot  be  compelled  ; but  the 
more  decided  the  refusal,  the  gentler  should  the  manner 
be.  There  is  a style  of  saying  No,”  that  never  offends. 
You  are  asked  as  a compliment ; as  a compliment  receive 
the  entreaty.  If  you  intend  to  sing,  accept  at  once  ; do 
not  hurry  up  to  the  piano,  as  if  glad  of  an  opportunity 
of  showing  off,  but  go  gently;  if  by  request  you  havt 
brought  your  music,  and  it  should  never  be  brought  to 
those  who  know  that  you  sing  without  request,  leave  it 
down  stairs ; it  can  be  sent  for ; but,  since  all  pauses  in 
society  are  to  be  avoided,  if  you  can  sing  without  notes  it 
is  as  well ; at  the  same  time,  never  attempt  to  do  so  unless 
#ure  of  yourself.  A half-forgotten  or  imperfect  song  is 
irritating.  Something  light  and  brilliant  is  best  for  a 
commencement,  or  a little  air  not  too  well  known — Ger- 
man, perhaps.  For  the  sake  of  all  the  Muses,  do  not 
attempt  a long  Italian  bravura  of  Verdi  or  Donizetti,  that 
12 


266 


FEMININE  ACCOMPLtbilMENTS. 


perhaps,  .alf  ihe  company  have  heard  Garcia  or  Piccolo- 
mini  sing  the  week  before,  you  must  murder  it  to  ears  so 
artistic  as  theirs.  Or  if  you  are  singing  to  a homely  au^ 
lienee,  the  simplest  song  will  please  them  better.  The 
lijfference  between  a professional  and  an  amateur  singe? 
i^hould  always  be  kept  in  view.  The  one  is  constrained 
hy  interest  to  astonish  ; the  other  has  no  other  inducement 
than  to  charm.  The  one  is  purchased,  the  other  is  a vol- 
untary effort  to  pass  away  time,  and  to  do  justice  to  the 
composition  of  some  of  the  popular  masters  of  the  day. 

The  form  and  movements  of  the  body  must  be  habitually 
controlled  in  singing.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  they  spoil 
the  effect  of  the  voice.  Some  ladies  bend  from  side  to 
side,  cast  up  their  eyes,  or  fix  them,  with  a rapt  expression, 
on  the  wax  lights  above  them.  Others  make  alarming 
faces,  protrude  the  under  jaw,  or  what  is  worse  assume  an 
affected  smile.  A good  master  suffers  none  of  these  de- 
fects to  creep  in.  He  regulates  the  mouth,  which  shoulo 
be  as  little  drawn  as  possible ; open  it  must  be,  but  should 
appear  to  have  an  inclination  to  smile,  without  the  abso 
lute  smile.  A great  deal  depends  on  the  right  mode  of 
bringing  out  the  voice.  I confess  it  is  a great  sacrifice  to 
Bee  one’s  friends  look  frightful,  even  when  giving  out  the 
1-  ost  delicious  sounds  ; nor  is  it  essential.  In  the  choice 
of  3ongs,  variety  is  to  be  adopted.  German  music  pleasea^ 
generally ; but,  let  no  one  not  conversant  with  the  riglit 
pronunciation  of  any  foreign  language,  sing  in  it ; ther 
is  nothing  so  unpleasant  as  to  hear  broad  French,  mincing 
German,  or  lisping  Italian.  Even  in  English,  a good  ac* 
cent  is  the  most  essential  thing  possible  ; and,  also,  a 
good  articulation.  A simple  song,  sung  without  grea 
powers  of  voice,  but  well  articulated,  delights,  because  it 


RINGING. 


267 


touches  the  understanding  to  which  it  appeals,  and  grati- 
fies the  ear  which  approves  the  modest  and  careful  cffori 
of  art.  Witness  the  extreme  pleasure,  amounting  to  en* 
inusiasm,  aflbrded  by  the  singing  of  the  poet  Moore,  lie 
no  compass  of  voice ; what  he  had  was  musical, 
eminently  so;  but  his  singing  captivated  from  th? 
dearness  with  which  every  word  was  uttered  ; the  way  in 
which  every  word  told;  the  easy,  natural  manner  of  the 
poet  at  the  piano.  On  one  occasion,  Mrs.  Billington  being 
in  one  room,  and  Moore  in  another,  of  some  great  Lon- 
don house,  crowds  flocked  around  the  poet,  whose  touching 
tones  even  drew  them  from  the  florid  singing  of  the  night- 
ingale of  her  day.  The  same  efiect  was  produced  by  the 
singing  of  the  late  Mrs.  Lockhart,  the  daughter  of  Sii 
Walter  Scott,  to  the  harp.  She  generally  sang  her  fath- 
er’s poetry,  set  to  music.  Her  taste,  her  feeling,  and 
truth  of  expression,  riveted  the  attention,  though  hej 
voice  had  little  power.  The  French  excel  in  this  species 
of  intellectual  singing,  if  one  may  use  such  a word,  but 
theirs  is  chiefly  professional.  Who  can  ever  forget  Ma- 
dame Jenny  Denner’s  Ma  Tante,”  or  Levassor’s  Vic 
de  campagne”  ? Yet  neither  had  the  average  amount  oi 
vocal  powers  of  a village  chorister. 

After  finishing  one  song,  a lady  should  rise  from  the 
piano,  even  if  she  be  brought  back  again  and  again.  Some 
ladies  are  so  aware  what  great  injustice  they  do  them- 
selves by  being  induced  to  sing  too  much,  that  they  make  a 
rale  of  only  singing  two  songs  at  a party  ; but  all  set  rulci 
in  society  are  bad.  Nothing,  however,  can  be  worse  than 
to  go  on  from  song  to  song,  till  admiration,  and  even  pa- 
tience are  exhausted,  and  politeness  is  driven  to  her  wit’s 
end  to  be  civil.  Of  course,  it  is  almost  needless  to  aay 


26^ 


FEMININE  ACCOMPLISHMENIS. 


ihat  sacred  songs  should  be  avoided  in  partiea.  I doubt 
whether  any  of  the  deeper  feelings  should  bo  paraded  or 
light  occasions,  and  if  songs  truly  mournful  are  not  bet' 
ter  reserved  for  small  reunions  of  the  real  Jcvers  cf  deej; 
fKithos  in  music. 

All  accomplishments  have  the  one  great  merit  of  giv 
iiig  a lady  something  to  do ; something  to  preserve  her 
from  ennui ; to  console  her  in  seclusion  ; to  arouse  her 
\n  grief ; to  compose  her  to  occupation  in  joy.  And  none 
answers  this  purpose  much  better  than  fancy  work,  or 
even  plain  work.  The  former  can  often  be  brought  ad- 
vantageously into  the  rear  of  other  pursuits — as  a reserve. 
The  latter  cannot  well  be  carried  into  society,  except  as 
a charity.  The  Germans  do  this  gracefully.  At  some  of 
their  courts  the  great  set  the  example.  During  Lent,  at 
Munich,  they  have  working  parties.  The  queen  made  a 
baby’s  shirt,  one  evening,  when  one  of  these  reunions  was 
held  in  the  apartments  of  her  grande  rn.a  tresse.  The 
king,  meantime,  was  pulling  lint  for  the  hospitals.  Every 
lady  of  the  court  had  some  useful  article  before  her; 
warm  shawls  made  with  the  crotchet-needle ; stockings 
knitted;  dresses,  chiefly  for  children,  from  their  being 
small.  Such  are  the  labors  that  employ  on  certain  eve- 
nings the  court  and  nobility  of  a nation  whose  aristocracy 
is  among  the  most  ancient  and  still  the  lichest  in  Europe- 
And  conversation  went  round  cheerfully.  Little  tables 
were  set  about,  and  the  assemblage  was  broken  up  into 
parties,  each  table  holding  a lady  or  two,  with  a gentleman 
near  her.  A terrible  waste  of  time  in  small  parties  would 
mdeed,  be  avoided,  if  some  sort  of  work  could  be  intro- 
duced ; and,  if  young  ladies  were  not  condemned  to  be 
idle  for  several  hours,  they  would  look  better,  and  be 


WORKING. 


261^ 


happier  more  amiable,  and  less  fatigued  than  they  ofters 
are  at  what  is  facetiously  termed  a ‘‘  friendly  party  ^ 
Not  that  it  is  recommended  to  take  into  a party  you! 
husband’s  stockings  to  mend,  or  dear  Charles’s  shirts,  over 
which  he  was  naturally  so  irritable  at  the  absence  of  but 
tons,  or  Louisa’s  pinafores  to  run  strings  into ; let  the 
work  have  the  characteristics  of  recreation  combined  with 
utility,  and  the  most  scrupulous  cannot  be  oifended.  Such 
is  indeed  the  spirit  of  the  day ; for  we  are  a more  sensi 
hie  people  than  our  grandsires  were. 

Sketching  and  archery  stand  first  among  out-doo} 
amusements.  They  are  healthy,  elegant,  and  appropri- 
ate to  the  feminine  character ; while — first  thought  of 
mmmas  ! — they  assemble  rather  than  exclude  the  young 
tr  members  of  the  other  sex. 


CHAPTER  VU 


MANNER.  CARRIAGE,  AND  HABITS. 

True  politeness  comes  from  the  heart,  and  this 
good,  the  rest  will  soon  follow.  But,  as  Chesterfield  says, 
‘ good  sense  and  good  nature  suggest  civility  in  general ; 
but  in  good  breeding  there  are  a thousand  little  delica- 
cies, which  are  established  only  by  custom.’’  That  which 
militates  most  against  good  breeding  is  an  indifference  to 
or  want  of  consideration  for  the  feelings  of  others ; and 
what  does  this  amount  to  but  a bad  heart  ? A courtier 
may  hate  me  with  civility,  and  a brigand  rob  me  politely. 
Is  there  not  some  good  in  the  heart  of  both  these  men  ? 
Have  they  not  a great  consideration  for  my  feelings  ? 
They  cannot,  they  would  tell  me,  help  what  they  do;  I 
stand  in  this  one's  way,  and  he  must  and  does  hate 
me;  I have  a purse  and  the  other  is  a robber,  he 
must  and  will  take  it ; but  both  of  them,  compelled  to 
treat  me  so  ill,  do  it  wdth  a grace  that  removes  half  the 
annoyance  of  it.  The  courtier  conceals  his  hatred,  and 
what  therefore  do  I care  for  it?  I do  not  even  Anow  of 
its  existence,  and  a passion  which  we  never  discover  can- 
not affect  us.  Then,  too,  if  the  highwayman  politely  and 
delicately  ‘‘invites”  me  to  give  up  those  few  paltry 
bank-notes,  assuring  me  it  is  his  “ profession,”  that  hfi 
laments  the  necessity  and  that  if  I show  no  fight,  no  vio> 
(270) 


MANNER  AND  THE  HEART. 


271 


icnce  will  be  used;  I have  at  least  the  comfort  of  being 
saved  from  a fright,  of  being  allowed  free  speech,  of  be- 
ing given  the  option  to  fight  or  yield,  so  that  when  I 
come  t ; think  how  much  an  agreeable  manner  may  do  to 
console  and  conciliate,  I don’t  know  whether  I could  ac- 
mb.)  my  worst  enemy  of  a want  cf  heart,  if  he  behaved 
like  a gentleman  to  me.  However,  1 am  convinced  that 
it  a man  had  not  a good  only,  but  a perfect  heart,  if  all 
his  attention  were  directed  to  the  comfort  of  others,  and 
he  was  willing  perpetually  to  make  the  sacrifice  necessary 
to  insure  it,  he  would  need  little  or  no  instruction  in  man- 
ners more  than  a little  experience.  He  would  soon  dis- 
cover how  this  act  or  that  gave  offence  or  caused  embar- 
rassment to  his  neighbor;  and  while  he  saw  nothing 
wrong  in  it  himself,  would,  for  his  neighbor’s  sake,  avoid 
it  for  the  future.  He  himself  might  see  no  harm  in 
using  a tooth-pick  at  dinner,  but  he  w^ould  soon  see  the 
obnoxiousness  of  it  reflected  in  opposite  faces,  and  down 
would  go  the  tooth-pick.  Give  such  a man,  ill-bred,  even 
unbred  naturally,  the  time  and  the  opportunity,  and  he 
would  turn  out  a gentleman.  But  first,  where  do  you 
find  this  perfect  consideration  for  others,  this  brotherly 
love,  for  it  is  nothing  else,  which  descends  to  the  minutest 
details,  and  feels  within  itself  the  vibration  of  every 
shord  too  rudely  struck  in  other  hearts  ? Alas,  where  ? 
Or,  given  the  heart,  how  are  you  to  insure  the  experi- 
cr.ee  ? Meanwhile,  in  waiting  for  hearts  and  experiences 
Booiety  grows  depraved.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  we  set 
up  laws  of  etiquette,  as  it  is  called — but  laws  of  Chris 
tian  action  we  might  call  them — to  insist  upon  the  show 
of  that  wdiich  ought  to  come  spontaneously  from  the 
Heart.  In  doing  so,  we  merely  copy  lawgivers  of  another 


MANNER,  CARRIAGE,  AND  HABITS. 

kind.  Honesty  is  not  honesty,  for  instance,  if  it  come 
not  from  within.  The  most  respectable  man  might  he 
dishonest  if  he  had  the  chance,  and  no  fear  of  the  law. 
Nevertheless  the  law  undertakes  to  make  men  appear 
honest,  because  it  knows  that  it  is  in  vain  to  wait  fo. 
honesty  in  heart.  The  law  tells  the  young  thief  he  must 
rob  no  more,  and  it  may  cure  him  of  thieving  and  make 
tiim  turn  out  a respectable  man — in  appearance ; but  it 
cannot  be  sure,  because  he  does  not  thieve,  that  he  has  no 
internal  desire  to  do  so,  and  would  not  do  so  if  the  fear 
of  tile  law  were  gone.  So  too,  in  just  the  same  way,  the 
.^Rws  of  society  give  rules  by  which  a man  may  be  amia- 
ble and  well-bred — to  all  appearance;  but  it  cannot  a 
whit  the  more  insure  the  good  feeling  which  ought  to  sug- 
gest the  good  acts. 

I say,  then,  that  because  Etiquette  lays  down  rules  by 
which  you  are  to  appear  to  have  a heart,  she  does  noth- 
ing worse  than  the  laws  of  the  realm,  which  show  how 
you  may  appear  honest,  and  leave  your  heart  alone. 
This  preface  is  necessary,  because  when  I say  a man  is  to 
i^mile  at  such  a time,  and  show  dignity  at  such  another, 
♦^^he  world  might  tell  me  I was  teaching  hypocrisy.  I am 
doing  nothing  of  the  kind.  I am  merely  providing  for 
nets  which  are  necessary  to  the  wellbeing  of  society,  be- 
cause I know  that  if  every  one  acted  according  to  hia 
heart,  the  world  would  soon  be  turned  upside-down. 

So  then  I can  manfully  say  that  a good  manner  is  » 
good  gift.  We  know  all  about  oily  serpents,  we  h.rvc 
read  enough  of  them  in  romantic  novels,  but  I am  bound 
to  say  I prefer  an  oily  serpent,  by  w^ay  of  society,  to  an 
unlicked  bear.  The  serpent  may  not  choose  me  to  bite 
I mav  enjoy  his  society,  I may  never  discover  that  he  if 


MANNER  AND  THE  HEART. 


273 


anything  worse  than  a harmless  blind-worm  with  no  sting 
in  him  ; but  I cannot  have  been  a minute  with  the  bear, 
before  I am  torn  to  pieces.  When  I hear  of  the  serpeut’s 
biting  anybody,  I can  avoid  him  for  the  future,  but  in 
the  meantime  he  is  an  agreeable  companion,  and  I have  no 
right  to  judge  my  neighbor.  I say  then  that  a man 
should  curb  his  heart  first,  but  if  he  cannot  do  or  has  not 
done  this,  he  has  no  right  to  come  bellowing  with  irrita- 
tion into  the  society  of  quiet  people,  merely  because  he 
will  not  take  the  trouble  to  be  mannerly. 

Manner,  then,  I am  bound  to  confess,  is  the  cloak  of 
character,  but  it  to  bare  the  character  be  indecent,  it  is 
better  it  should  wear  a cloak  than  go  about  naked.  Un- 
til we  are  all  perfect,  until  there  is  a millennium  on 
earth,  it  will  always  be  indecent  to  wear  our  feelings  in 
Adamite  costume,  and  so  long  will  a garment,  like  that 
of  Manner,  be  necessary. 

A good  carriage  involves  two  things,  a respect  for  one’s 
self  and  a respect  for  others.  It  is  very  diflScult  to  draw 
the-  line  between  the  two,  and  to  show  w^here  the  one 
should  yield  to  the  other ; but  as  the  world  goes,  the  man 
who  lespects  himself  is  generally  respected,  and  for  a 
very  good  reason,  since  without  a due  recognition  of  the 
Divine  spark  within  him,  a recognition  owed  to  his  Maker, 
no  man  can  be  really  good.  On  the  other  side,  comes 
the  Christian  precept  which  bids  us  love  our  neighbor  as 
ourself,  and  at  once  defines  where  self-respect  must  end 
Wherever  our  dignity,  our  prejudices,  our  opinions  begin 
to  annoy  our  neighbors,  to  cause  them  pain,  embarrass- 
ment, or  confusion,  they  must  give  way.  How  often  dc 

we  hear,  ‘‘  I think  Mr.  is  a very  excellent  man,  bul 

he  has  a most  disagreeable  manner;’*  the  fact  being  that 
12* 


274 


MANNER,  CARRIAGE,  AND  HABITS. 


Mr , meaning  very  well,  has  not  sufficient  CDnsiJar- 

ation  for  others’  feelings  to  temper  his  enthusiasm.  And 
then  such  a man  wins  his  reward.  His  zeal  devour? 
him,  and  he  annihilates  by  want  of  consideration  al!  the 
good  he  might  have  done.  We  see  this  very  often  in  ex- 
cellent well-meaning  maiden  ladies,  who  undertake  the 
supervision  of  their  poorer  neighbors.  Wherever  tliey 
see  a fault,  they  attack  it  harshly,  unflinchingly,  unpity- 
ingly.  The  result  is,  that  the  poor  they  visit  begin  tc 
loathe  them  and  their  visits,  and  instead  of  improving, 
despise  the  improver.  Then  send  to  them  some  mild  un- 
taught girl,  all  love,  all  heart,  all  warmth,  and  bid  hex 
win  them  back.  She  begins  instinctively  by  attaching 
them  to  herself,  she  is  all  interest,  all  kindness  to  them, 
and  when  she  has  made  their  hearts  her  own,  the  least 
expression  of  a wish  will  make  them  give  up  their  dearest 
vices.  How  well  has  it  been  put,  Smoothe  the  way  to 
the  head  through  the  heart,”  and  we  may  be  sure  that 
what  is  good  here  in  morals  is  good  in  manners.  Rude- 
ness will  never  win  the  day;  an  amiable,  kind  manner 
rides  over  the  course. 

The  first  rule,  then,  for  Manner,  is  self-respect.  With- 
out this,  a man  is  not  only  weak  and  bad,  but  unfit  for 
society.  The  want  of  it  shows  itself  in  two  most  disagree- 
able forms,  adulation  and  awkwardness.  I believe  both  to 
have  no  evil  intent  in  themselves.  Hundreds  and  thou- 
sands of  flatterers  and  hangers-on  • have  never  hoped  to 
gain  a single  benefit  from  their  adulation.  It  is  simple 
weakness  ; simple  absence  of  self-respect.  But  the  woild 
vfill  not  always  see  it  in  so  charitable  a point  of  view^  mi 
the  flatterer  is  denounced  as  interested  In  any  case,  ad- 
ala  Hon  IS  bad,  for  it  is  dangerous  not  only  to  the  servile. 


SELF-REStECT  AND  SELF-ESTEEM. 


27^ 


but  to  those  to  whom  it  is  addressed.  Awkwardness  maj 
^ften  arise  from  shyness^  but  more  often  is  the  fruit  of  a 
wf.nt  of  self-respect.  Both  are  to  be  sedulously  avoided 

On  the  other  hand^  self-respect  is  liable  to  err  on  the 
3;Je  of  dignity,  and  self-respect  is  only  one  step  remo/ed 
from  self-esteem.  The  one  is  a vice;  the  other  a viitue. 
Self-respect  is  the  acknowledgment  of  manhood,  of  the 
good  soul  God  has  given  you  to  take  care  of,  of  the  part 
He  has  given  you  to  play  in  life.  Self-esteem  is  an  arro- 
gance of  superiority  in  these  points.  In  the  young  it 
takes  the  form  of  conceit : in  the  older,  of  stateliness ; in 
the  woman,  of  vanity.  We  pardon  it  most  readily  in 
middle-aged  men,  and  yet  I think  that  the  oppressive, 
damping  dignity  of  some  of  these  is  destructive  of  all  ease 
in  society.  When  Paterfamilias  asserts  his  rights,  stand- 
ing with  his  coat-tails  spread  before  the  fire,  which  he 
hides  from  everybody  else,  we  cannot,  dare  not  object 
openly,  but  we  certainly  feel  chilled,  inwardly  by  his  sol- 
emn dignity,  and  outwardly  by  the  deprivation  of  caloric. 
Scarcely  less  chilling  is  tlie  arrogance  of  the  younger 
man,  who  can  scarcely  condescend  to  converse  with  us ; 
who  brings  his  superior  information  down  upon  our  humble 
opinions,  like  an  avalanche  on  an  Alpine  village ; who 
contradicts  us  flatly,  and  sneers  us  into  insignificance. 
Conversation  becomes  impossible,  and  society  is  deavlened 
under  such  influences. 

More  innocent,  but  not  less  contemptible,  is  the  affecta- 
tion which  arises  from  incipient,  often  from  full-grown, 
vanity.  In  men  it  is  simply  contemptible,  because  effemi- 
nate ; and  the  youth  who  purposely  lisps  or  minces  his 
words,  or  the  silky  young  curate  who  has,  by  dint  of  prac- 
tice, forced  down  his  natural  voice  into  a low,  but  as  Anna 


276 


MANNER,  CARRIAGE,  AND  HABITS, 


Maria  asserts,  most  thrilling,  whisper  ; or  the  dilettante  ic 
music,  whose  hair  hangs  in  profuse  curls,  and  who.  as  hi 
runs  fat  white,  beringed  fingers  over  the  notes,  sways  hif 
bydj  to  and  fro,  and  casts  his  glances  to  either  side  in  a 
kind  of  rapture ; nay.  even  the  unnaturally  solemn  man 
who  looks  you  through  as  if  he  were  casting  up  youi 
little  account  of  sin  for  you,  together  with  a thousand 
other  kinds  of  men,  are  all  too  obviously  affected  to  retain 
long  the  respect  of  sensible  people.  We  know  that  nature 
has  its  many  faults  to  be  curbed,  but  we  know  that  where 
nature  is  not  at  fixult,  it  is  most  truthful  to  let  her  have 
her  run.  By  the  side  of  the  afiected  man,  even  the 
bluntest  looks  noble,  and  for  the  very  reason  that  affecta- 
tion arises  from  a want  of  self-respect  or  excess  of  self- 
esteem, extremes  which  resemble  one  another. 

But  I would  almost  dare  to  say  that  there  never  was  a 
woman  who  had  not  more  or  less  affectation  in  speaking  to 
men.  I am  not  a St.  Anthony,  but  I believe  it  to  be 
natural  to  woman  to  alter  their  manner  towards  the  other 
so  that  I involve  myself  in  a paradox;  it  is  natural 
tor  them  to  be  unnatural  under  these  circumstances.  I 
am  not  going  into  the  logic  of  it,  but  really  this  is  only 
an  apparent  paradox,  and  I may  say  with  perfect  truth 
that  it  is  natural  for  women  to  be  sometimes  unnatural. 
If  you  doubt  me,  watch  how  Clara,  the  simplest,  sweetest, 
least  sophisticated  cf  her  sex,  talks  to  you,  a man.  Then 
rut  on  the  invisible  cap  and  follow  her  to  the  drawing- 
nxm,  where  she  and  her  sisters  will  sit  alone  and  talkc 
If  you  see  no  marked  change  of  manner  in  Clara,  I will 
admit  that  I am  wrong. 

But  then  there  are  grades  in  woman’s  affectation,  and 
labile  Clara  seems  to  be  all  nature,”  as  they  say  ii 


EXAMPLE  OF  BAD  VNNER. 


277 


modern  novels,  we  can  exclaim  at  first  sight  that  Belinda 
is  a mass  of  tarlatane  and  affectation.’’  My  dear  Be- 
iinda,  take  in  good  part  the  warning  of  an  old  oachelor. 
Believe  me  that  men  who  are  worth  your  arrows  will  net 
be  smitten  with  tinsel  shafts ; believe  me  that  the  better 
they  are,  the  more  they  love  nature  in  women,  artlessness, 
frankness,  modesty.  But  then  there  is  even  an  affectation 
of  naturalness,  and  you,  Clarissa,  who  are  past  five-and- 
twenty — 0 yes,  I know  it,  for  your  little  brother  lef  it 
out ! — feel  that  you  never  can  be  really  natural  again  in 
society,  and  so  you  affect  to  be  so,  by  becoming  brusque 
and  somewhat  pert.  Men,  Clarissa,  are  not  such  fools  as 
you  imagine ; they  will  see  through  this  even  more  easily, 
and  there  is  no  hope  for  you,  but  to  be  with  them  whal 
yo.u  are  before  your  own  looking-glass.  But  I am  tres- 
passing on  the  province  of  my  coheague,  and  I must  re- 
turn, very  loath,  to  the  men. 

Let  me  give  a few  samples  of  manner  to  be  avoided: 
First  there  is  Tibbs,  short  enough  and  clever  enough  to 
be  a great  man  and  such,  I dare  say,  he  will  be  one  of 
these  days.  But  Tibbs  feels  within  him  the  spirit  of  gov- 
ernance, and  has  reverence  for  neither  old  nor  young.  He 
walks  with  a short,  sharp  step,  his  little  nose  rather  elevat- 
ed, his  eyes  glaring  to  detect  some  weakness  on  which  to 
pounae.  You  put  forward  an  opinion,  the  meekest  you 
can  give  : “ It  will  turn  out  fine.”  Beg  your  pardon,” 
answered  Tibbs,  with  that  sharp  snap,  which  makes  the 
wonls  sound  like  Don’t  be  a fool !”  it  will  not  be  a 
Sue  day,  1 have  good  reason  to  know  it,  there.”  What 
3an  you  do  with  Tibbs,  but  collapse  ? He  treats  his  father 
ind  grandfather,  and  mother  and  sister,  all  in  the  same 
way,  and  they  are  cowed  before  him.  Tibbs  is  nevei 


278  MANJ^ER.  CARRIAGE  AND  HABtTS. 

dowiiiiglitly  rude.  You  cannot  catch  him  up  and  cal! 
him  a bear ; but  his  manner  of  speaking  continually  con- 
veys the  impression  that  Tibbs  believes  in  his  own  acute- 
ness only,  and  in  nobody  else’s.  He  is  the  kind  of  mai‘ 
who  can  open  Shakspere,  read  a passage,  and  exclaim. 
‘‘Did  you  ever  hear  such  nonsense?’’  giving  you  good 
reasons  forsooth^  if  poets  and  philosophers  could  be  mea- 
sured by  the  lowest  standard  of  the  dryest  common  sense. 
Tibbs  is  all  common  sense,  but  by  no  means  a pleasant 
companion. 

Very  different  is  old  Mr.  Dawdles.  He  seems  to  be  in 
a state  of  chronic  plethora.  Say  what  you  will  on  his 
dearest  themes,  he  has  no  reply  for  you  but  a yes  or  nc 
snivelled  out.  When  he  speaks  himself,  he  appears  to  be 
grumbling  at  you,  however  kind  his  words.  You  knew  he 
is  good  and  means  very  well,  and  he  w^ould  give  you  half 
his  fortune  out  of  sheer  kindness,  but  with  a gesture  and 
tone  of  voice  which  would  seem  to  say,  There,  take  it, 
and  don’t  make  a fuss.”  He  does  hate  a fuss,  more  than 
all  other  abominations. 

There  is  Slouch,  again,  whom  I believe  to  be  an  incar- 
• nation  of  honor  and  uprightness,  but  who  gives  you  the 
idea  of  a sneak  and  a villain.  He  never  looks  you  full  in 
the  face.  His  shaggy  brows  hang  over  his  lurking  eyes, 
and  his  words  come  cautiously  and  suspiciously  wriggling 
up  to  you. 

But  Pompous  has  the  best  of  hearts.  He  has  been 
known  to  go  out  of  his  way  for  miles  to  leave  a little  some- 
thing  with  a poor  widow.  And  hcrw  the  man  wrongs  him^ 
self ! He  is  very  tall,  and  has  a fine  figure.  He  draws 
himself  up  to  the  greatest  height,  and  looks  down  on  you 
da  if  you  were  a Lilliput,  and  all  the  while  be  loves  you 


EXAMPLES  OF  BAD  MANNER. 


279 


bw  adhamed  to  show  it.  He  orders  his  wife  and  ser* 
FaLta  about  with  a calm  imperiousness  which  makes  them 
dre^  him,  and  yet  they  all  acknowledge  they  never  knew 
a kinder  man,  though  I never  yet  saw  a smile  of  p.ty  or 
sympathy  on  his  face. 

Far  less  admirable  is  that  weak  young  Fitzwhiskers,  who 
holds  his  head  so  very  high,  and  walks  down  the  room  with 
a curled  lip,  w^hich  seems  to  say,  ‘^What  scum  you  all  are  !” 
Then  there  is  Commodus,  an  agreeable  man,  if  you  can 
keep  him  within  bounds.  He  sits  down  quietly  enough 
and  you  are  pleased,  but  in  two  minutes  he  is  making  the 
fre<.st  possible  remarks,  w^ith  no  harm,  no  intentional  of- 
fence in  them,  but  yet  so  intolerably  familiar  for  a man 
yon  have  known  but  five  minutes,  that  they  quite  upset 
jon.  Only  the  other  day  I rashly  introduced  him  to  a 
young  lady,  and  she  afterwards  told  me  how  he  had  be- 
gun : — ‘‘Were  you  at  the  opera  last  night?”  this  was 
politely  and  quietly  asked.  “No.”  “ How  very  fortu- 

nate for  those  who  w^ere  there  ! Those  eyes  wwld  have 
singed  a dozen  hearts,” 

But  Vivax  is  one  of  the  worst.  He  talks  atrociously 
loud  ; hails  you  from  the  other  end  of  the  table.  “ Will 
trouble  you  for  that,  ha,  ha ! and  for  this,  ho,  ho  !”  and 
“Have  you  been  dancing,  Miss  Smith?  ha,  ha  ! Then 
of  course  you  have.  Miss  Jones?  he,  he!  and  what  do 
you  say  to  it,  Mrs.  Browm  ?”  and  he  is  round  the  whole 
circle,  from  one  to  another,  in  two  minutes,  not  waiting 
for  answers.  Then  he  bustles  about;  he  must  always 
have  something  on  hand.  He  drags  you  here  one  minute, 
and  rushes  away  from  you  the  next.  He  talks  as  rapidly 
fts  an  auctioneer,  and  rattles  over  a dozen  subjects  in  as 
many  minutes.  He  is  quick  and  clever,  but  when  he  ha« 


280 


MANNER,  ( ARRIAGE,  AND  HABITS. 


jorkei  out  his  own  thought,  he  clinches  it  with  u ha, 
or  a he,  he  ! and  never  waits  for  your  answer. 

Glumrne  is  just  the  reverse.  You  must  do  all  the  talk  - 
ing for  him  ; he  will  only  drawl  out  a No-o-o,”  or  § 

' Ye-e-es,’*  and  wears  a perpetual  scowl. 

Then  there  is  Trippet,  who  seizes  you  by  the  button 
‘.ole,  ani  grows  hot  over  the  merest  trifle;  Courte,  who 
replies  with  a sharp  sneer ; Sterne,  who  has  for  ever  a 
look  of  reproof,  though  he  does  not  mean  h ; Fidgette, 
who  can  never  be  prevailed  upon  to  be  comfortable ; Bluff, 
who  terrifies  you  with  his  curt  blunt  manner ; and  Lack- 
adaye,  who  is  so  languid  that  he  cannot  take  the  trouble 
even  to  look  at  you.  One  genius  whom  I knew,  never 
removed  his  eyes  from  the  lamp  on  the  table  ; another 
rushed  up  to  you,  seized  both  your  hands,  and  gazed  with 
apparent  affection  into  your  eyes ; a third  spoke  deep 
truths  in  a low  solemn  tone,  as  he  gazed  at  a spot  on  the 
carpet ; a fourth  moved  his  head  to  and  fro,  as  if  to  avoid 
your  gaze : and  a fifth,  the  greatest  of  all,  never  spoke 
at  all. 

The  manner,  in  short,  which  a man  must  aspire  to,  is 
one  which  will  give  ease,  and  not  embarrassment,  to  oth- 
ers. He  must  preserve  a certain  dignity,  but  yet  be 
pliant ; he  must  be  open,  frank  ; look  you  honestly  in  the 
face,  speak  out  confidently,  yet  calmly;  modestly,  yet 
firmly ; not  be  bluff*  or  blunt,  but  yet  be  free  and  simple. 
In  fact,  let  a man  be  natural,  let  him  be  in  society  what 
he  is  anywhere ; but  if  he  find  his  natural  manner  too 
rough,  tDo  loud,  too  curt,  or  too  brutal,  let  him  learn  tc 
tame  it  and  calm  it  down. 

But  manner  has  various  functions  for  various  circum- 
itane?s.  Towards  our  elders  and  superiors,  we  must  show 


/ 


THE  PHYSICAL  CARRIAGE  281 

Ml  honest,  not  servile  deference  ; towards  men,  'gentle- 
ness ; towards  juniors  tenderness ; towards  inferiors,  a 
simple  dignity,  without  condescension.  Arist(tlf>.  who 
perhaps  a better  philosopher  than  gentleman,  recommends 
a haughtiness  to  superiors,  and  graceful  freedom  to  in- 
feriors. The  world  is  old  enough  to  judge  for  itself.  JJut 
when  a man  finds  that  his  lively  badinage  suits  a band  of 
merry  lissome  girls,  he  must  not  be  so  wild  as  to  rush  at 
Papa  with  the  same  kind  of  banter.  Paterfam.  may  give 
a smile  to  real  wit  and  laugh  at  a good  story,  but  the 
same  trifling  which  makes  his  daughters  laugh  so  ring- 
ingly,  will  only  appear  to  him  a familiarity  when  ad 
dressed  to  himself  Then,  again,  the  gravity  into  which 
you  have  fiillen  when  discussing  great  measures  with  a 
pliilanthropist,  will  afford  no  satisfaction  to  the  airy  mass 
of  tarlatane  with  whom  you  dance  soon  after.  Solomon 
has  said  it : there  is  a time  to  weep  and  a time  to  laugh. 
In  other  words,  be  you  as  merry  a jester  as  ever  sat  at  a 
king’s  table,  you  must  not  obtrude  your  un weary  mirth 
at  a visit  of  condolence  ; or  be  you  the  most  bereave!” 
of  widowers,  you  will  not  bring  your  tears  and  sighs  to 
damp  the  merriment  of  social  gatherings. 

What  applies  to  manner  may  be  transferred  in  most 
respects  to  that  bearing  which  distinguishes  a man  in  so- 
ciety. But  the  times  change  much  in  this  respect,  and 
the  old  courteous  dignity  with  which  the  beaux  of  my 
younger  days  behaved,  has  given  way  to  a greater  ease, 
and  sometimes^  I fear,  to  too  great  freedom.  I do  not 
know  whether  to  regret  or  not,  the  strict  ccurteousness 
of  those  times.  It  often  amounted  to  affectation  ; it  was 
not  natural  to  be  ever  bowing  low,  making  set  speeches, 
raising  a lady’s  hands  to  one’s  lips,  or  pressing  one’s  own 


MANNER.  CARRIAGE,  AND  HABITS. 


2S2 

upon  the  region  of  the  heart,  but  <it  the  same  time  I re« 
gret  the  lounging  familiarity  which  we  see  too  prevalent 
among  young  men  of  the  present  day.  There  is  not  in 
fact  sufficient  reverence  for  the  fair  and  the  old.  Some 
times  this,  I regret  to  say,  must  be  charged  to  the  faul 
jf  the  former ; and  a young  lady  who  talks  slang,  oi  i 
always  with  ^Hhe  men,’’  must  expect  to  find  them  some 
times  abuse  her  good-nature.  But  abstracts  are  ineffec- 
tive ; let  me  come  to  some  details  as  to  the  physical  car* 
riage  of  a man. 

A certain  dignity  is  the  first  requisite,  but  we  must  not 
expect  too  much  of  it  in  the  young,  and  we  should  not 
emulate  the  solemnity  of  Charles  the  First,  who  never 
laughed.  It  is  a mistake,  too,  to  suppose  that  height  is 
necessary  for  dignity.  Chesterfield,  the  most  polished 
gentleman  of  his  day,  was  only  five  feet  seven  in  height, 
and  Wellington  and  Bonaparte,  both  short  men,  have 
never  been  accused  of  want  of  dignity.  But  at  the  same 
time  the  assumption  of  it  is  more  liable  to  become  ridicu- 
lous in  a short  than  in  a tall  man.  Dignity  can  never  go 
along  with  a slouching  gait,  and  uprightness  should  be 
acquired  in  childhood  by  gymnastics  and  ample  exercise. 
This  uprightness,  however,  should  not  go  to  the  extent  of 
curving  the  back  inwards.  The  chest  should  be  expanded, 
but  not  sc  much  as  to  make  a presence.”  The  head 
should  be  set  well  back  on  the  shoulders,  but  not  tosscl 
up  nor  jerked  on  one  side  with  that  air  of  pertness  y(;U 
gee  in  some  men.  People  of  height  are  often  foolish 
enough  to  mar  it  by  bending  the  head  forward'  whereas 
if  carried  well,  a tall  figure  is  never  awkward,  even  ameng 
Lilliputs.  In  standing,  the  legs  ought  to  be  straight,  oi 
j>ne  of  them  bent  a little,  but  not  set  wide  apart  I® 


CARRIAGE. 


283 


walking,  they  should  be  moved  gently  but  firmly  from  the 
hips,  so  that  the  upper  part  of  the  body  may  remain  in 
l!  e same  position.  How  often  from  my  window  have  1 
been  able  to  mark  a man  by  his  walk  ! One  comes  strid 
irig  3*"^utly  like  a captain  on  quarter-deck  ; another  sham 
hies  his  feet  along  the  pavement;  a third  swings  his  arms 
violently  ; a fourth  carries  them  bowed  out  before  him  like 
a dancing-master  of  the  old  school ; a fifth  turns  out  his 
huge  feet  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  ; another  jerks  forward 
his  pointed  toes  like  a soldier  at  drill ; another  sways  his 
body  from  side  to  side  ; another  looks  almost  hump-back- 
ed, as  he  moves  heavily  on  ; one  more  saunters  listlessly 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets ; this  one  moves  his  arms 
back  behind  him,  and  that  one  carries  them  stiff  and 
straight  as  iron  bars,  with  his  fists  clenched  like  knobs  at 
the  ei-d  thereof.  The  feet  must  be  turned  outwards  very 
little  i ndeed ; the  arms  should  be  carried  easily  and  very 
slight!  r bent  at  the  sides,  and  in  walking  should  be  moved 
X litth»,  without  swinging  them  ; and  the  shoulders  should 
never  be  shrugged  up.  Avoid  stiffness  on  the  one  hand, 
lounging  on  the  other.  Be  natural  and  perfectly  at  your 
ease,  whether  in  vralking  or  sitting,  and  aspire  to  calm 
confidence  rather  than  loftiness. 

There  is,  however,  one  good  habit  v/hich  must  not  be 
overlooked.  You  should  never  speak  without  a slight 
smile,  or  at  least  a beam  of  good  will  in  your  eyes,  and 
tliat  to  all,  whether  your  equals  or  inferiors.  To  the 
lattoi  it  is  especially  necessary,  and  often  wins  you  UiOra 
love  than  the  most  liberal  benevolence.  But  tnis  smile 
should  not  settle  into  a simper,  nor,  when  you  are  launch- 
ed in  a conversation,  should  it  interfere  with  the  eamest*^ 


2^4 


JVIANNER,  CARRIAGE,  AND  HARITS. 


ness  of  your  manner.  To  a lady  it  should  be  more  rnarLod 
than  to  a man. 

In  listening,  again,  you  should  manifest  * certain  inte» 
rest  in  what  a person  is  saying  ; and  however  little  w<athy 
i>f  your  attention,  you  should  not  show  that  you  think  it 
80  by  the  toss  of  your  head  or  the  wandering  of  you: 
eyes.  In  speaking  to  any  one  you  should  look  them  in 
the  face,  for  the  eyes  always  aid  the  tongue,  but  you 
should  not  carry  this  to  the  extent  of  wriggling  yourself 
forward  in  order  to  catch  their  eyes,  if  there  happen  to 
be  another  person  between  you. 

It  is  painful  to  see  the  want  of  ease  with  which  some 
men  sit  on  the  edge  of  a chair ; but  at  the  same  time  the 
manner  in  which  others  throw  themselves  back  and  stretch 
forward  their  legs  savors  too  much  of  familiarity.  You 
may  cross  your  legs  if  you  like,  but  not  hug  your  knees 
nor  your  toes.  Straddling  a chair,  and  tilting  it  up  may 
be  pardonable  in  a bachelor’s  rooms,  but  not  in  a lady’s 
drawing-room.  Then,  if  you  carry  a walking-stick  or 
umbrella  in  the  street,  you  should  avoid  swinging  them 
dolently  about^  or  tucking  them  under  the  arm.  Both 
are  dangerous  to  your  neighbors,  for  in  the  one  case  you 
may  inadvertently  strike  a person  and  get  into  as  great 
trouble  as  the  individual  who  was  brought  up  the  other 
day  for  assaulting  a woman  with  a cricket-bat,  which  he 
affirmed  he  was  merely  swinging  about  careles&ly ; in  the 
other,  the  point  of  your  stick  may  run  into  some  uniortu 
uate  creature’s  eye. 

Foreigners  talk  with  their  arms  and  hands  as  auxilia 
rles  to  the  voice.  The  custom  is  considered  vulgar  by  us 
«alm  Englishmen,  and  a Parisian,  who  laughs  at  oui 


HABITS. 


285 


ladies'  dressing;  will  siill  admit  that  our  men  are  dis- 
tingue mais  t 'es  distbigu  5/’  If  the  face  follows  the 
words,  and  you  allow,  without  grimacing,  your  eyes  and 
smile  to  express  what  you  are  saying,  you  have  no  need 
to  act  :t  with  the  hands,  but,  if  you  use  them  at  all,  it 
shoull  be  very  slightly  and  gracefully,  never  bringing 
iowii  a fist  upon  the  table,  nor  slapping  one  hand  upur 
another,  nor  pokii  g your  fingers  at  your  interlocutor. 
Pointing,  too,  is  a habit  to  be  avoided,  especially  pointing 
with  tlie  thumb  over  the  shoulder,  which  is  an  inelegant 
action.  In  short,  while  there  is  no  occasion  to  be  stolid 
or  constrained,  you  should  not  be  too  lively  in  your  ac- 
tions, and  even  if  led  away  by  the  enthusiasm  of  an  argu- 
ment, should  never  grow  loud,  rant,  or  declaim.  No 
manner  is  more  .disagreeable  than  that  of  vehement  affir- 
mation or  laying  down. the  law. 

With  these  remarks  I may  pass  to  consider  certain 
habits  which  are  more  or  less  annoying  to  your  neighbors. 
First,  there  is  that  odious  habit  of  touching  the  nose  and 
ears  with  the  fingers,  for  which  there  is  no  excuse.  Every 
part  of  the  person  should  be  properly  tended  in  the  dress- 
ing-room, never  in  the  drawing-room,  and  for  this  reason 
picking  the  teeth,  however  fashionable  it  may  once  have 
been,  scratching  the  head,  the  hands,  or  any  part  of  the 
body,  are  to  be  avoided.  Mr.  Ourzon  tells  us  that  at 
Erzeroum  it  is  quite  the  fashion  to  scratch  the  bites  of  a 
little  insect  as  common  there  as  in  certain  London  hotels, 
and  it  is  even  considered  a delicate  attention  to  catch  the 
li^^ely  creatures  as  they  perch  on  the  dress  or  shoulders 
your  partner.  Fortunately  we  are  not  tempted  to  per- 
form such  attentions  in  this  country ; but  if  you  have  the 
misfortune  to  be  bitten  or  stung  by  any  insect,  you  must 


288 


MANNER,  CARRIAGE,  AND  HABITS. 


endure  the  pain  without  scratching  thte  bite  in  company 
These  same  little  insects  being  of  very  disagreeable  origin 
are  not  even  spoken  of  with  us.  Biting  the  nails,  again 
js  not  only  a dirty  habit,  but  one  which  soon  disfigures 
the  fingers.  So  too  in  blowing  your  nose,  you  must  no« 
aiake  the  noise  of  a trumpet,  but  do  it  gently  and  quiet- 
ly ; and,  when  you  sneeze,  use  your  handkerchief  I do 
not  go  the  length  of  saying  that  you  must  repress  a 
sneeze  entirely.  There  is  a pleasant  custom,  still  univer- 
sal in  Germany  and  Italy,  and  retained  among  the  peas 
antry  in  some  parts  of  England,  of  blessing  a person  whc 
has  sneezed,  benedicite^  Gott  segne  sie,  and  bless  you,’’ 
being  the  terms  used,  probably  in  the  hope  that  the  prayer 
may  keep  you  from  cold. 

Sneezing  brings  me  to  snuffing,  which  is  ^n  obsolete 
custom,  retained  only  by  a few  old  gentlemen,  and  as  it 
is  a had  one,  no  young  man  should  think  of  reviving  it. 

But  what  shall  I say  of  the  fragrant  weed  which  Raleigh 
taught  our  gallants  to  puff  in  capacious  bowls ; which  a 
royal  pedant  denounced  in  a famous  ‘‘Counterblast;’ 
which  his  flattering  laureate,  Ben  Jonson,  ridiculed  to 
please  his  master : which  our  wives  and  sisters  protest 
gives  rise  to  the  dirtiest  and  most  unsociable  habit  a man 
can  indulge  in  ; of  which  some  fair  favorers  declare  that 
they  love  the  smell,  and  others  that  they  will  never  marry 
an  indulger  (which,  by  the  way,  they  generally  end  in 
ioing);  which  has  won  a fame  over  more  space  and  among 
better  men  than  Noah’s  grape  has  ever  done ; which  doc- 
tors still  dispute  about,  and  boys  still  get  sick  over  ; bu 
FV'hich  is  the  solace  of  the  weary  laborer  ; the  support  of 
the  ill  fed ; the  refresher  of  over- wrought  brains ; the 
soother  of  angry  fancies ; the  boast  of  the  exquisite  ; th« 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  SMOKING. 


287 


excuse  of  the  idle  ; the  companion  of  the  philosopher ; 
and  the  tenth  muse  of  the  poet.  I will  go  neither  intt? 
the  medical  nor  the  moral  question  about  the  dreamj^ 
calming  cloud.  I will  content  mjself  so  far  with  saying 
what  may  be  said  for  everything  that  can  bless  and  curs< 
nankind,  that,  in  moderation,  it  is  at  least  harmless ; bul 
what  is  moderate  and  what  is  not,  must  be  determined  in 
each  individual  case,  according  to  the  habits  and  constitu* 
tion  of  the  subject.  If  it  cures  asthma,  it  may  destroy 
digestion ; if  it  soothes  the  nerves,  it  may,  in  excess,  pro- 
duce a chronic  irritability. 

But  I will  regard  it  in  a social  point  of  view ; and,  first 
as  a narcotic,  notice  its  effects  on  the  individual  character. 
I believe,  then,  that  in  moderation  it  diminishes  the  vi- 
olence of  the  passions,  and  particularly  that  of  the  tem- 
per. Interested  in  the  subject,  I have  taken  care  to 
seek  instances  of  members  of  the  same  famiJv  having 
the  same  violent  tempers  by  inheritance,  ot  wtiom  the 
one  has  been  calmed  down  by  smoking,  and  the  other 
gone  on  in  his  passionate  course.  I believe  that  it  in- 
duces a habit  of  calm  reflectiveness,  which  causes  us  to 
take  less  prejudiced,  perhaps  less  zealous  views  of  life,  and 
to  be  therefore  less  irritable  in  our  converse  with  our  fel- 
low creatures.  I am  inclined  to  think  that  the  clergy,  the 
squirearchy,  and  the  peasantry  are  the  most  prejudiced 
and  most  violent  classes  in  this  country ; there  may  be 
otluT  reasons  for  this,  but  it  is  noteworthy  that  these  are 
tlie  classes  which  smoke  least.  On  the  other  hand,  I con 
fess  that  it  induces  a certain  lassitude,  and  a lounging,  easy 
mode  of  life,  which  are  fatal  both  to  the  precision  of  man- 
ners and  the  vivacity  of  conversation.  The  mind  of  a 
imoker  is  contemplative  rather  than  ar»tive ; and  if  the 


288 


MANNER.  CARRIAGE,  AND  IIABITb. 


^reed  cures  our  irritability,  it  kills  our  wit.  I believe  tLut 
it  is  a fallacy  to  suppose  that  it  encourages  drinking 
There  is  more  drinking  and  leas  smoking  in  this  than  in 
sny  other  country  of  the  civilized  world.  Tlere 
jQi>re  drinking  among  the  gentry  of  last  century,  v^hc 
never  smoked  at  all.  Smoke  and  wine  do  not  go  well 
together.  ColFee  or  beer  are  its  best  accompaniments,  and 
the  one  cannot  intoxicate,  the  other  must  be  largely  im- 
bibed to  do  so.  I have  observed  among  young  bachelors 
that  very  little  wine  is  drunk  in  their  chambers,  and  that 
beer  is  gradually  taking  its  place  The  cigar,  too,  is  an 
excuse  for  rising  from  the  dinner-table  where  there  are  no 
ladies  to  go  to. 

In  another  point  of  view,  I am  inclined  to  think  that 
smoking  has  conduced  to  make  the  society  of  men  when 
alone  less  riotous,  less  quarrelsome,  and  even  less  vicious 
than  it  was.  Where  young  men  now  blow  a common 
cloud,  they  were  formerly  driven  to  a fearful  consumption 
of  wine,  and  this  in  their  heads,  they  were  ready  and 
roused  to  any  iniquity.  But  the  pipe  is  the  bachelor’s 
wife.  With  it  he  can  endure  solitude  longer,  and  is  not 
forced  into  low  society  in  order  to  shun  it.  With  it  too 
the  idle  can  pass  many  an  hour,  which  otherwise  he  would 
have  given,,  not  to  work,  but  to  extravagant  devilries 
With  it  he  is  no  longer  restless  and  impatient  for  excite- 
ment of  any  kind.  We  never  hear  now  of  young  blades 
issuing  in  bands  from  their  wine  to  beat  the  watch  oi 
dirturb  the  slumbering  citizens,  as  we  did  thirty  or  forty 
yegrs  ago,  when  smoking  was  still  a rarity : they  are  all 
puffing  harmlessly  in  their  chambers  now.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  I foresee  with  dread  a too  tender  allegiance  to 
the  pipe^  to  the  destruction  of  good  society,  and  the  aban- 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  THE  WEED.  289 

donmeiit  of  the  ladies.  No  wonder  they  hate  it,  dear 
creatures;  the  pipe  is  the  worst  rival  a woman  can  have  * 
and  it  is  one  whose  eyes  she  cannot  scratch  out;  who  im 
proves  with  age,  wdiile  she  herself  declines ; who  has  an 
tirt  which  no  woman  possesses,  that  of  never  wearying  her 
lie  /otee  ; who  is  silent,  yet  a companion ; costs  little,  yet 
gi  ves  much  pleasure ; who,  lastly,  never  upbraids,  and 
always  yields  the  same  joy.  Ah  ! this  is  a powerful  rival 
to  wife  or  maid,  and  no  wonder  that  at  last  the  woman  suc- 
cumbs, consents,  and  rather  than  lose  her  lord  or  master, 
even  supplies  the  hated  herb  with  her  own  fair  hands. 
And  this  is  what  women  have  come  to  do  on  the  Conti- 
nent ; but  in  America  they  have  gone  further,  and  ad- 
mitted the  rival  to  their  very  drawdng-rooms,  where  the 
unmanly  husband  stretches  his  legs  on  the  sofa,  smokes, 
and  spits  on  the  carpet.  Far  be  it  from  our  English 
women  to  permit  such  habits ; and  yet,  as  things  are,  a 
little  concession  is  prudent.  There  was  not  so  much 
drinking  when  withdrawing-rooms  were  the  privilege  of 
palaces,  and  matrons  sat  over  the  cups  of  their  lords,  and 
there  will  not  be  near  so  much  smoking  where  ladies  are 
present.  I have  no  wish  to  see  English  girls  light  their 
own  cigarettes  or  puff  their  own  chibouks,  like  the  houris 
3)f  Seville  and  Bagdad ; but  I do  think  that,  as  smoking 
.8  now  so  much  a habit  of  Englishmen,  it  would  be  wise 
if  it  were  made  possible,  within  certain  well-guarded  lim- 
itiitions,  in  the  society  of  ladies. 

As  it  is,  there  are  rules  enough  to  limit  this  indulgence 
( )no  must  never  smoke,  nor  even  ask  to  smoke,  in  the  corn- 
I any  of  the  fair.  If  they  know  that  in  a few  minutes  you 
will  be  running  off  to  your  cigar,  the  fair  will  do  w^ell — say 
it  is  in  a garden,  or  so — to  allow  you  to  bring  it  out  and 
13 


290 


manner,  carriage,  and  habits. 


Bmoke  it  there.  One  must  never  smoke,  again,  in  th 
streets ; that  is,  in  daylight.  The  deadly  crime  mai 
be  committed,  like  burglary,  after  dark,  but  not  before 
One  must  never  smoke  in  a room  inhabited  at  times  bj 
the  ladies ; thus,  a well-bred  man  who  has  a wife  or  sistei's 
will  not  offer  to  smoke  in  the  dining-room  after  dinrer 
One  must  never  smoke  in  a public  place,  where  ladies  are 
or  might  be,  for  instance,  a flower-show  or  promenade. 
One  may  smoke  in  a railway-carriage  in  spite  of  by-laws, 
if  one  has  first  obtained  the  consent  of  every  one  present ; 
but  if  there  be  a lady  there,  though  she  give  her  consent, 
smoke  not.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  she  will  give  it  from 
good-nature.  One  must  never  smoke  in  a close  carriage  ; 
one  may  ask  and  obtain  leave  to  smoke  when  returning 
from  a pic-nic  or  expedition  in  an  open  carriage.  One 
must  never  smoke  in  a theatre,  on  a race-course,  nor  in 
ckurch.  This  last  is  not,  perhaps  a needless  caution.  In 
the  Belgian  churches  you  see  a placard  announcing,  ‘‘  Ici 
on  ne  m"che  pas  du  tabac.’’  One  must  never  smoke  when 
anybody  shows  an  objection  to  it.  One  must  never  smoke 
a pipe  in  the  streets ; one  must  never  smoke  at  all  in  the 
coffee-room  of  a hotel.  One  must  never  smoke,  without 
consent,  in  the  presence  of  a clergyman,  and  one  must 
never  offer  a cigar  to  any  ecclesiastic  over  the  rank  of 
cuiate. 

But  if  you  smoke,  or  if  you  are  in  the  company  of 
smokers,  and  are  to  wear  your  clothes  in  the  presence  ol 
ladi*r«  afterwards,  you  must  change  them  to  smoke  in.  A 
host  who  asks  you  to  smoke,  will  generally  offer  you  a* 
did  coat  for  the  purpose.  You  must  also,  after  smoking, 
rinse  the  mouth  well  out,  and,  if  possible,  brush  the  teeth. 
You  should  never  smoke  in  another  person's  house  ;^Jthoal 


HABITS  AT  TABLE. 


293 


fea^re,  and  you  should  not  ask  leave  to  do  so,  if  there  are 
ladies  in  tlie  liouse.  When  you  are  going  to  smoke  a cigar 
yourself,  you  should  offer  one  at  the  same  time  to  anybody 
present,  if  not  a clergyman  or  a very  old  man.  You 
loiild  always  smoke  a cigai  given  to  you,  whether  gixx} 
r bad,  and  never  make  any  remarks  on  its  quality. 

Smoking  reminds  me  of  spitting,  but  as  this  is  at  al^ 
times  a disgusting  habit,  I need  say  nothing  more  than— * 
never  indulge  in  it.  Besides  being  coarse  and  atrocious 
it  is  very  bad  for  the  health. 

There  are  some  other  habits  which  are  disagreeaole 
to  your  company.  One  is  that  of  sniffling  or  breathing 
Lard  through  the  nostrils,  which  is  only  excusable  if  you 
have  a cold,  and  even  then  very  disagreeable.  Another 
is  that  0^  shaking  the  table  with  your  leg,  a nervous  habit, 
which  you  may  not  always  be  conscious  of.  Then  again, 
however  consoling  to  sing  and  hum  to  yourself,  you  must 
remember  that  it  may  annoy  others,  and  though  you  may 
whistle  when  alone,  for  want  of  thought,’’  you  will 
whistle  in  company  only  for  want  of  consideration  of  oth- 
ers. Ladies  particularly  object  to  whistling,  which  is  a 
mimical,  but  not  very  melodious  habit. 

We  now  come  to  habits  at  table,  which  are  very  im- 
portant. However  agreeable  a man  may  be  in  society, 
if  he  offends  or  disgusts  by  his  table  traits,  he  will  soon 
l>e  scouted  from  it,  and  justly  so.  There  are  some  broad 
ules  for  behavior  at  table.  Whenever  there  is  a servant 
to  help  you,  never  help  yourself.  Never  put  a knife 
iito  your  moutli,  not  even  with  cheese,  which  should  le 
jaten  with  a fork.  Never  use  a spoon  for  anything  bm 
liquids.  Never  touch  anything  edible  with  your  fin  ;x‘r8 

Forks  were  undoubtedly  a later  invention  than  fing  is 


292 


MANNER,  CARRIAGE.  AND  HABITS. 


but  as  we  are  not  cannibals.  I am  inclined  to  think  thej 
were  a good  one.  There  are  some  few  things  which  you 
may  take  up  with  your  fingers.  Thus  an  epicure  will  eat 
even  macaroni  with  his  fingers  ; and  as  sucking  asparagu^j 
is  more  pleasant  than  chewing  it,  you  may  as  an  epicure 
take  it  up  cm  natiirH.  But  both  these  things  are  gener 
dly  eaten  with  a fork.  Bread  is  of  course  eaten  with  the 
fingers,  and  it  would  be  absurd  to  carve  it  with  your 
knife  and  fork.  It  must,  on  the  contrary,  always  I)0 
broken  when  not  buttered,  and  you  should  never  put  a 
slice  of  dry  bread  to  your  mouth  to  bite  a piece  off.  Most 
fresh  fruit  too  is  eaten  with  the  natural  prongs,  but  when 
you  have  peeled  an  orange  or  apple,  you  should  cut  it 
with  the  aid  of  the  fork,  unless  you  can  succeed  in  break- 
mg  it.  Apropos  of  which  I may  hint  that  no  epicure 
ever  yet  put  knife  to  apple,  and  that  an  orange  should  be 
peeled  with  a spoon.  But  the  art  of  peeling  an  orange 
so  as  to  hold  its  own  juice,  and  its  own  sugar  too,  is  one 
that  can  scarcely  be  taught  in  a book. 

However,  let  us  go  to  dinner,  and  T will  soon  tell  you 
whether  you  are  a well-bred  man  or  not ; and  here  let  me 
premise  that  what  is  good  manners  for  a small  dinner  is 
good  manners  for  a large  one,  and  vice  vei'sa.  Now,  the 
first  thing  you  do  is  to  sit  dowm.  . Stop,  sir  ! pray  do  not 
cram  yourself  into  the  table  in  that  way ; no,  nor  sit  a 
yard  from  it,  like  that.  How  graceless,  inconvenient,  ainl 
in  the  way  of  easy  conversation  ! Why,  dear  me,  you 
vre  positively  putting  your  elbows  on  the  table,  and  new 
you  have  got  yc.ir  hands  fumbling  about  with  the  spools 
iiil  forks,  and  now  you  are  nearly  knocking  my  new  hoch 
glasses  over.  Can’t  you  take  your  hands  down,  sir? 
Didn’t  you  learn  that  in  the  nursery?  Didn’t  your 


HABITS  AT  TABLE. 


293 


mamma  say  to  you,  Never  put  your  bauds  abcve  the 
table  except  to  carve  or  eat  P’  Oh  . but  come,  no  iion- 
gense,  sit  up  if  you  please.  I can’t  have  your  fine  head 
of  hair  forming  a side  dish  on  my  table : you  must  not 
ury  your  face  in  the  plate,  you  came  to  show  it,  and  it 
ought  to  be  alive.  Well,  but  there  is  no  occasion  t 
throw  your  head  back  like  that,  you  look  like  an  aider- 
man,  sir,  after  dinner.  Pray,  don’t  lounge  in  that  sleepy 
way.  You  are  here  to  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry.  You 
can  sleep  when  you  get  home. 

Well,  then,  I suppose  you  can  see  your  napkin.  Got 
none,  indeed  ! Very  likely,  in  my  house.  You  may  be 
sure  that  I never  sit  down  to  a meal  without  napkins.  I 
don’t  want  to  make  my  tablecloths  unfit  for  use,  and  I 
don’t  want  to  make  my  trousers  unwearable.  Well  now, 
we  are  all  seated,  you  can  unfold  it  on  your  knees  : no,  no ; 
don’t  tuck  it  into  your  waistcoat  like  an  alderman ; and 
what ! what  on  earth  do  you  mean  by  wiping  your  forehead 
with  it  ? Do  you  take  it  for  a towel  ? Well,  never  mind, 
I am  consoled  that  you  did  not  go  farther,  and  use  it  as  a 
pocket-handkerchief.  So  talk  away  to  the  lady  on  your 
right,  and  wait  till  soup  is  handed  to  you.  By  the  way, 
that  waiting  is  a most  important  part  of  table  manners, 
and  as  much  as  possible  you  should  avoid  asking  for  any 
thing  or  helping  yourself  from  the  table.  Your  soup  you 
eat  with  a spoon — I don’t  know  what  else  you  cotild  eat 
it  with — ^but  then  it  must  be  one  of  good  size.  Yes,  that 
frill  do,  but  I beg  you  will  not  make  that  odious  noise  in 
drinking  your  soup.  It  is  louder  than  a dog  lappin^ 
water,  and  a cat  would  be  quite  genteel  to  it.  Then  you 
need  not  scrape  up  the  plate  in  that  way,  nor  even  tilt  it 
to  get  the  last  drop.  I shall  be  happy  to  send  you  som« 


MANNER,  CARRIAGE  AND  HABITS. 

more ; but  I must  just  remark,  that  it  is  not  the  custom 
to  take  two  helpings  of  soup,  and  it  is  liable  to  keep  other 
people  waiting,  which,  once  for  all,  is  a selfish  and  intoler 
able  habit.  But  don’t  you  hear  the  servant  offering  you 
sherry  ? I wish  you  would  attend,  for  my  servants  hav 
quite  enough  to  do,  and  can’t  wait  all  the  evening  whik 
you  finish  that  very  mild  story  to  Miss  Goggles.  Come, 
leave  that  decanter  alone.  I had  the  wine  put  on  the 
table  to  fill  up ; the  servant  will  hand  it  directly,  or,  as 
we  are  a small  party,  I will  tell  you  to  help  yourself,  but, 
pray,  do  not  be  so  oflScious.  (There,  I have  sent  him  some 
turbot  to  keep  him  quiet.  I declare  he  cannot  make  up 
his  mind.)  You  are  keeping  my  servant  again,  sir.  Will 
you,  or  will  you  not,  do  turbot  ? Don’t  examine  it  in  that 
way ; it  is  quite  fresh,  I assure  you,  take  or  decline  it 
Ah,  you  take  it,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
take  up  a knife  too.  Fish,  I repeat,  must  never  be  touched 
with  a knife.  Take  a fork  in  the  right,  and  a small  piece 
of  bread  in  the  left  hand.  Good,  but—  ? Oh  ! that  is 
atrocious ; of  course  you  must  not  swallow  the  bones,  but 
you  should  rather  do  so  than  spit  them  out  in  that  way. 
Put  up  your  napkin  like  this,  and  land  the  said  bone  on 
your  plate.  Don’t  rub  your  bread  in  the  sauce,  my  good 
man,  nor  go  progging  about  after  the  shrimps  or  oysters 
therein.  Oh  ! how  horrid ; I declare  your  mouth  was 
wide  open  and  full  of  fish.  Small  pieces,  I beseech  you 
and  once  for  all,  whatever  you  eat,  keep  your  mouth  shtii 
wid  never  attempt  to  talk  with  it  full. 

So  now  you  have  got  a pate.  Surely  you  are  not  taking 
two  on  your  plate.  There  is  plenty  of  dinner  to  come, 
and  one  is  quite  enough.  Oh  ! dear  me,  you  are  incor- 
rigible. What  ^ a knife  to  cut  that  light,  brittle  pastry  1 


hab:ts  at  table. 


29£ 


No,  Qor  fingers,  never.  Nor  a spoon — almost  as  bad 
Take  your  fork,  sir,  your  fork ; and  now  you  have  eaten, 
oblige  me  by  wiping  your  mouth  and  moustache  with  youi 
napkin,  for  there  is  a bit  Df  the  pastry  hanging  to  the  lat-^ 
ter,  and  looking  very  disagreeable.  Well,  you  can  refuse 
a dish  if  you  like.  There  is  no  positive  necessity  for  you 
to  take  venison  if  you  donH  want  it.  But,  at  any  rate,  do 
not  be  in  that  terrific  hurry.  You  are  not  going  ofi*  by 
the  next  train.  Wait  for  the  sauce  and  wait  for  vegeta- 
bles ; but  whether  you  eat  them  or  not,  do  not  begin  befori 
^jverybody  else.  Surely  you  must  take  my  table  for  that 
of  a railway  refreshment-room,  for  you  have  finished  be- 
fore the  person  I helped  first.  Fast  eating  is  bad  for  the 
digestion,  my  good  sir,  and  not  very  good  manners  either. 
What ! are  you  trying  to  eat  meat  with  a fork  alone  ? Oh  * 
it  is  sweetbread,  I beg  your  pardon,  you  are  quite  right. 
Let  me  give  you  a rule, — Everything  that  can  be  cut  with- 
out a knife,  should  be  cut  with  a fork  alone.  Eat  your  veg-^ 
etables  therefore  with  a fork.  No,  there  is  no  necessity  to 
take  a spoon  for  peas ; a fork  in  the  right  hand  will  do. 
What ! did  I really  see  you  put  your  knife  into  your 
mouth  ? Then  I must  give  you  up.  Once  for  all,  and 
ever,  the  knife  is  to  cut,  not  to  help  with.  Pray,  do  not 
munch  in  that  noisy  manner ; chew  your  food  well,  but 
softly.  Eat  slowly.  Have  you  not  heard  that  Napoleon 
lost  the  battle  of  Leipsic  by  eating  too  fast  ? It  is  a fact 
though.  His  haste  caused  indigestion,  which  made  him 
"ncapable  of  attending  to  the  details  of  the  battle.  You 
ee  you  are  the  last  person  eating  at  table.  Sir,  I will 
floi  allow  you  to  speak  to  my  servants  in  that  way.  If 
they  are  so  remiss  as  to  oblige  you  to  ask  for  anything,  do 
it  gently,  and  in  a low  tone,  and  thank  a servant  just  as 


296  MANNER,  CARRIAGE  AND  HABETS. 

much  as  you  would  his  master.  Ten  to  one  he  is  as  good 
a man  : and  because  he  is  your  inferior  in  position,  is  the 
very  reason  you  should  treat  him  courteously.  Oh  ! it  is 
of  no  use  tc  ask  me  to  take  wine ; far  from  pacifying  me, 
it  will  only  make  me  more  angry,  for  I tell  you  the  custom 
fe  quite  gone  out,  except  in  a few  country  villages,  and  at 
B mess- table.  Nor  need  you  ask  the  lady  to  do  so.  How* 
ever,  there  is  this  consolation,  if  you  should  ask  any  one 
to  take  wine  with  you,  he  or  she  cannot  refuse,  so  you 
have  your  own  way.  Perhaps  next  you  will  be  asking  me 
to  hob  and  nob,  or  trinquer  in  the  French  fashion  with 
s-rms  encircled.  Ah  ! you  don’t  know,  perhaps,  that  when 
a lady  trinques  in  that  way  with  you,  you  have  a right  tc 
finish  off  with  a kiss.  Very  likely  indeed,  in  England  i 
But  it  is  the  custom  in  familiar  circles  in  France,  but  then 
we  are  not  Frenchmen.  Will  you  attend  to  your  lady, 
sir  ? You  did  not  come  merely  to  eat,  but  to  make  your- 
self agreeable.  Don’t  sit  as  glum  as  the  Memnon  at 
Thebes ; . talk  and  be  pleasant.  Now,  you  have  some 
pudding.  No  knife — no,  no,  A spoon  if  you  like,  but 
better  still,  a fork.  Yes,  ice  requires  a spoon ; there  is  a 
small  one  handed  you,  take  that. 

Say  “no.”  That  is  the  fourth  time  wine  has  been 
handed  to  you,  and  I am  sui’e  you  have  had  enough. 
Decline  this  time  if  you  please.  Decline  that  dish  too 
Are  you  going  to  eat  of  everything  that  is  handed  ? 1 

pity  you  if  you  do.  No,  you  must  not  ask  for  more  cheese, 
and  you  must  eat  it  with  your  fork.  Break  the  rusk  with 
your  fingers.  Good.  You  are  drinking  a glass  of  old 
port.  Do  not  quafi*  it  down  at  a gulp  in  that  way.  Never 
drink  a whok  glassful  of  anything  at  once. 

Well,  here  is  the  wine  and  dessert.  Take  whichevev 


HABITS  AT  TABLE 


297 


wme  you  like,  but  remember  you  must  keep  to  that,  and 
not  change  about.  Before  you  go  up  stairs  I will  allow 
you  a glass  of  sherry  after  your  claret,  but  otherwise  drink 
>f  one  wine  only.  You  don’t  mean  to  say  you  are  help^ 
bg  yourself  to  wine  before  the  ladies.  At  least  offer  it 
to  the  one  next  to  you,  and  then  pass  it  on,  gently,  nc4 
with  a push  like  that.  Do  not  drink  so  fast ; you  will 
hurry  me  in  passing  the  decanters,  if  I see  that  your  glass 
is  empty.  You  need  not  eat  dessert  till  the  ladies  are 
^gone,  but  offer  them  whatever  is  nearest  to  you.  And 
now  they  are  gone,  draw  your  chair  near  mine,  and  I will 
try  and  talk  more  pleasantly  to  you.  You  will  come  out 
admirably  at  your  next  dinner  with  all  my  teaching. 
What ! you  are  excited,  you  are  talking  loud  to  the  col- 
onel. Nonsense.  Come  and  talk  easily  to  me  or  to  your 
nearest  neighbor.  There,  don’t  drink  any  more  wine,  for 
I see  you  are  getting  romantic.  You  oblige  me  to  make 
a move.  You  have  had  enough  of  those  walnuts ; you 
are  keeping  me,  my  dear  sir.  So  now  to  coffee  (one  cup) 
and  tea,  which  I beg  you  will  not  pour  into  your  saucer 
to  cool.  Well,  the  dinner  has  done  you  good,  and  me  too 
Let  us  be  amiable  to  the  ladies,  but  not  too  much  so. 


CHAPTER  Vm. 


THE  CARRIAGE  OR  LADIES. 

' To  be  ciyil  with  ease,”  it  has  been  well  remarked, 
dtitutes  good  breeding.  The  English,  It  is  added,  ha?€ 
not  les  manures  prevenantes  ; when  they  want  to  be 
Jvil,  they  are  ashamed  to  get  it  out.”  Since  the  man- 
ders  are  generally  formed  for  good  or  for  bad  before 
jhirty — although  they  may  improve  or  deteriorate  after 
chat  age — it  is  to  the  young  that  a few  admonitions  should 
()e  offered. 

Vo  the  young?”  The  young  are  perfect  now-a-days  ! 
Ours  is  the  age  of  self-assertion.  I shall  be  surprised 
lit  any  one  who  can  point  out  a single  defect  in  my  daugh- 
ters,” says  a well-satisfied  mamma.  Teach  ns  re- 
fund the  young  ladies  in  a chorus,  what  does  the  crea 
ture  mean?”  My  dears,”  murmurs  a tremulous  voice 
from  the  other  end  of  the  room,  grandmamma’s  corner, 
don’t  say  that  ; in  my  younger  days  it  was  the  fashion 
for  young  ladies,  if  they  were  not  really  humble  and 
timid,  to  appear  so.  I never  came  into  a room  as  you, 
Arabella,  do,  as  if  I could  walk  over  every  one,  and  didn't 
mind ; nor  crept  in,  Helen,  like  you,  as  if  you  had  bees 
loing  something  in  the  passage  you  were  ashamed  of ; 

nor  plumped  down  into  a chair  like  you,  Sophia,  nor .’* 

Here  they  all  interrupt  poor  grandmamma  with  a loud_ 
limultaneous  laugh,  for  she  is  certainly  quite  out  of  date 
knows  nothing  of  the  matter. 

(298) 


ON  FIRST  INTRODUCTION. 


299 


She  might  have  laid  down  immutable  rules  for  good 
breeding ; she  might  have  said,  wdth  the  great  Lord  Chat 
ham,  who  probably  was  the  best-bred  man  of  his  time 
that  politeness  is  benevolence  in  trifles;’*  with  Rocl.c 
Foucault  ' that  it  is  the  mind  that  forms  the  manners 
but  wLc  vrould  have  listened  to  her  ? Arabella  would 
have  called  out,  “Who  cares  for  such  old  fogrums  now 
and  Helen  have  added,  that  she  thought  Lord  Chester- 
field and  “ all  that  humbug  about  manners  quite  a sell.” 

Yes,  it  is  true ; nous  avons  change  tout  cela.  Except 
in  the  very  highest  classes,  where  politeness  and  a good 
carriage  are  taught  from  infancy — the  higher  classes  being 
more  retentive  of  old  forms  than  any  others  ; except  there, 
where  what  is  called  the  “ old  school”  has  not  died  out,  it 
IS  now  not  only  allowable,  but  even  thought  clever,  to  be 
loud,  positive,  and  rapid ; to  come  into  the  room  like  a 
whirlwind,  carrying  all  before  you ; to  look  upon  every 
one  else  as  inferiors,  with  the  idea  that  it  enforces  that 
conviction  ; to  have  your  own  set  of  opinions  and  ideas, 
without  the  least  reference  to  what  others  think ; and  to 
express  them  in  terms  which  would  have  been  far  better 
comprehended  in  the  stable  than  by  a company  of  ladie 
and  gentlemen  some  twenty  years  ago.  Even  in  the  high 
est  classes,  these  watering-place  manners — so  let  us  call 
them — are  on  the  increase,  but  only  amongst  a certain 
pet,  who  give  the  tone  to  a set,  emulating  their  merit 
below  them. 

' It  is  as  well  to  suggest  to  the  young,  “ to  be  earlj 
what  they  will,  in  later  life,  wish  they  had  always  been.” 
Unhappily  those  who  compose  society  are  prone  to  bor- 
row their  ideas  from  the  class  above  them,  and  do  nol 
think  for  themselves.  Melissa,  the  attorney’s  daughter 


500 


THE  CARRIAGE  OF  LADIES. 


catches  up  a few  words  of  slang  from  the  county  mem 
her ’s  daughter  at  the  last  races,  and  tninks  ^t  pretty  tc 
use  those  phrases  vigorously.  Philippa,  the  good  old  reo* 
tor's  favorite  child,  hears  Lady  Elizabeth  contradict  hei 
faamma,  and  takes  the  same  cue  herself,  as  the  certainty 
if  doing  the  right  thing.  Modesty  and  simplicity,  th« 
i rfispring  of  reverence,  dare  not  show  their  faces,  and  are 
loted  slow.’*’ 

Since  language  is  the  exponent  of  character,  it  is  no 
cessary  to  refer  to  its  abuse,  as  if  it  does  not  in  all  cases 
actually  show  a vulgar  and  pretentious  mind,  it  is  apt  te 
render  it  so. 

An  agreeable,  modest,  and  dignified  bearing  is,  in  the 
younger  period  of  a woman’s  existence,  almost  like  a por- 
tion to  her.  Whatever  may  be  the  transient  tone  and 
fashion  of  the  day,  that  which  is  amiable,  graceful,  and 
true  in  taste,  will  always  please  the  majority  of  the  world. 
A young  lady,  properly  so  called,  should  not  require  to 
have  allowances  made  for  her.  Well  brought  up,  her  ad- 
dress should  be  polite  and  gentle,  and  it  will,  soon  after 
her  introduction  to  society,  become  easy  to  be  civil  witL 
ease.”  Let  us  repeat  the  golden  rule,  it  should  be  the 
guidance  to  the  minor’s  morals  of  society.  On  first  being 
introduced  to  any  stranger,  there  is  no  insincerity  in  the 
display  of  a certain  pleasure.  We  are  advised  by  Wilber” 
force  to  give  our  good-will,  at  first,  on  leasehold.  To  the 
elder,  a deferential  bend  or  curtsey,  though  curtsies  are 
now  unfashionable,  marks  the  well  brought  up  girl.  Sh« 
must  not  receive  her  new  acquaintance  with  a hysteric 
laugh,  such  as  I have  seen  whole  families  prone  to ; nei- 
ther must  she  look  heavy,  draw  down  her  mouth,  and  ap- 
pear as  if  she  did  not  care  for  her  new  acquaintance ; no? 


ON  FIKST  INTRODUCTION. 


801 


must  she  look  at  once  over  the  dress  of  Her  victim  (ir 
that  case)  as  if  taking  an  inventory  of  it ; nor  appear  hur- 
ried, as  if  glad  to  get  away  on  the  first  break  in  the  con- 
versation. She  must  give  a due  attention,  or  reasonably 
time  to  perfect  the  introduction,  to  a certain  extent.  Vcl* 
ability  is  to  be  avoided ; to  overpower  with  a volley  of 
words  is  more  cruel  than  kind  ; the  words  should  be  gent* 
ly  spoken,  not  drawled,  and  the  voice  loud  enough  to  be 
caught  easily,  but  always  in  an  undertone  to  the  power  of 
voice  alloted  by  nature.  Some  persons  appear  to  go  to 
the  very  extent,  and  deafen  you  for  all  other  sounds ; 
they  may  speak  the  words  of  wisdom,  but  you  wish  them 
dumb.  Others  mumble  so  that  you  are  forced  continually 
to  express  your  total  inability  to  follow  the  drift  of  their 
remarks ; others  drawl  so  that  you  feel  that  life  is  not 
long  enough  for  such  acquaintance.  All  these  are  habits 
to  be  conquered  in  youth. 

Avoid,  especially,  affectation.  It  was  once  in  fashion 
Some  ladies  put  it  on  with  their  dresses ; others,  by  a 
long  practice,  were  successful  in  making  it  habitual.  It 
became  what  was  called  their  manner.  Sophia  has  a 
manner;  it  is  not  affectation,  ‘^it  is  her  manner,  only 
manner.”  Affectation  has  long  ceased  to  be  the  fashion, 
and  like  many  other  bygone  peculiarities,  one  sees  it  only 
in  shops. 

There  is  a way  also  of  looking  that  must  be  regulated 
m the  young.  The  audacious  stare  is  odious  ; the  %ly^ 
oblique,  impenetrable  look  is  unsatisfactory.  Softly  and 
kindly  should  the  eyes  be  raised  to  those  of  the  speaker 
and  only  withdrawn  when  the  speech,  whatever  it  may  be^ 
is  concluded.  Immediate  intimacy  and  a familiar  man* 
ner  are  worse  than  the  glum  look  with  which  some  young 


302 


THE  CARRIAGE  CF  LADIES. 


ladies  have  a habit  of  regarding  their  felk  w- mortals 
There  is  also  a certain  dignity  of  manners  necessary  tc 
make  oven  the  mosi  superior  persons  respected.  This 
dignity  can  hardly  be  assumed ; it  cannot  be  taught ; h 
must  be  the  result  of  intrinsic  qualities,  aided  by  a knoAtl* 
edge  very  much  overlooked  in  modern  education— ••  the 
knowledge  how  to  behave.”  It  is  distinct  from  preten- 
sion,  which  is  about  the  worst  feature  of  bad  manners,  and 
creates  nothing  but  disgust.  A lady  should  be  equal  to 
every  occasion.  Her  politeness,  her  equanimity,  her  pre- 
sence of  mind,  should  attend  her  to  the  court  and  to  the 
cottage. 

Neither  should  private  vexations  be  allowed  to  act 
upon  her  manners,  either  in  her  own  house  or  in  those  of 
others.  If  unfit  for  society,  let  her  refrain  from  entering 
it.  If  she  enters  it,  let  her  remember  that  every  one 
is  expected  to  add  something  to  the  general  stock  of  plea 
sure  or  improvement.  The  slight  self-command  required 
by  good  society  is  often  beneficial  both  to  the  temper  and 
spirits. 

One  great  discredit  to  the  present  day  is  the  ‘‘  fast 
young  lady  ” She  is  the  hoyden  of  the  old  comedies, 
without  the  indelicacy  of  that  character.  An  avowed 
flirt,  she  does  not  scruple  to  talk  of  her  conquests,  real  or 
imaginary.  You  may  know  her  by  her  phrases.  She 
talks  of  ‘Hhe  men,”  of  such  and  such  ‘‘a  charmer.” 
She  does  not  mind,  but  rather  prefers  sitting  with  the 
men”  when  they  are  smoking ; she  rides  furiously,  and 
plays  b lliards.  But  it  is  in  her  marked  antagonism  to  her 
own  Sf  I that  the  fast  y ung  lady  is  perceptible.  Sho 
shuts  t.p  her  moral  perceptions,  and  sees  neither  beauty 
nor  talent  in  her  own  sex.  With  all  this  she  is  often 


THE  FAST  YOUNG  LADY. 


808 

dolently  confident,  and  calls  all  idiots  who  differ  from  her 
in — I can  scarcely  say  her  opinions — ^but  rather  her  pre* 
judices. 

By  degrees,  the  assumption  of  assurance  which  has  had 
its  source  in  bad  taste,  becomes  real : a hard  blask  look 
% ftee  tongue ; and,  above  all,  the  latitude  of  manner 
shown  to  her  by  the  other  sex,  and  allowed  by  her.  show 
that  the  inward  characteristics  have  followed  the  outward, 
and  that  she  is  become  insensible  to  all  that  she  has  lost 
of  feminine  charm,  and  gained  in  effrontery.  For  the  in- 
stant a woman  loses  the  true  feminine  type,  she  parts  with 
half  her  influence.  The  ^‘fast  girl’’  is  flattered,  admired 
openly,  but  secretly  condemned.  Many  a plain  woman 
has  gained  and  kept  a heart  by  being  merely  womanly 
and  gentle.  In  one  respect,  however,  the  fast  young  lady 
may  console  herself ; her  flirtations  are  as  fearless  as  her 
expressions  ; they  do  little  harm  to  any  but  herself.  Bro- 
ken hearts  have  not  to  turn  reproachfully  to  loud,  high- 
spirited,  overbearing  w'omen,  “jolly  girls,”  as  they  are 
styled  ; “ chaff”  in  which  they  delight  as  often  offends  as 
amuses.  To  gain  an  empire  over  the  affections  of  others, 
there  must  be  somewhat  of  sentiment  or  sympathy  in  the 
nature  of  woman.  Your  loud,  boastful,  positive  young 
lady  will  never  be  remembered  with  a soft  interest,  unless 
there  be,  perchance,  some  soft  touch  in  her  that  redeems 
her  from  hardness. 

With  regard  to  flirtation,  it  is  difficult  to  draw  a limit 
where  the  predilection  of  the  moment  becomes  the  more 
tender  and  serious  feeling,  and  flirtation  sobers  into  a more 
honorable  form  of  devoted  attention. 

We  all  dread  for  our  daughters  imprudent  and  harass- 
ing attachments ; let  it  not,  however,  be  supposed  that 


S04 


TJIE  CARRIAGE  OF  LADIES 


long  practised  flirtations  are  without  their  evil  effects  CB 
the  character  and  manners.  They  excite  and  amuse,  but 
they  also  exhaust  the  spirit.  They  expose  women  to  oeii- 
mre  and  to  misconstruction  ; that  is  their  least  evil ; (hej 
destroy  the  charm  of  her  manners  and  the  simplicity  of 
*be,T  lieart.  Yet  the  fast  young  lady  clings  to  flirtation 
the  type  of  her  class ; the  privilege  of  that  social  free- 
masonry which  enables  one  flirt  to  discover  and  unkennel 
another.  She  glories  in  number.  Where  a rival  has 
Blain  her  thousands,  she  has  overthrown  her  tens  of  thou- 
sands. She  forgets  that,  with  every  successive  flirtation, 
one  charm  after  another  disappears,  like  the  petals  from  a 
fading  rose,  until  all  the  deliciousness  of  a fresh  and  pure 
character  is  lost  in  the  destructive  sport.  On  all  these 
points  a woman  should  take  a high  tone  in  the  beginning 
of  her  life.  It  is  sure  to  be  sufficiently  lowered  as  time 
goes  on.  She  loses,  too,  that  sort  of  tact  which  prevents 
her  from  discerning  when  she  has  gone  too  far,  and  the 
“ fast  young  lady’’  becomes  the  hardened  and  practised 
flirt,  against  whom  all  men  are  on  their  guard. 

It  is  true  that,  in  comparing  the  present  day  with  for- 
mer times,  we  must  take  into  account,  when  we  praise  the 
models  of  more  chivalric  days,  that  we  know  only  the 
best  specimens ; the  interior  life  of  the  middle  classes  is 
veiled  from  us  by  the  mist  of  ages.  Yet  it  is  to  be  de- 
duced from  biography,  as  well  as  from  the  testimony  of 
poets  and  dramatists,  that  there  was,  before  the  Restora- 
tion, a sort  of  halo  around  young  women  of  delicacy  and 
good  breeding,  owing,  perhaps,  in  part,  to  the  more  retir- 
ed lives  that  they  led,  but  more  to  the  remnants  of  that 
fast-departing  sentiment  of  chivalrous  respect  which  youth 
and  beauty  inspired  Then  came  the  upsetting  demoral i 


THE  PRUDE  AND  THE  BLUE-SI  v^CE  ING.  305 


lation  of  the  Restoration,  when  all  prudent  fathers  kepi 
their  daughters  from  court,  and  only  the  bold  and  fast’* 
remained  to  furnish  chronicles  for  De  Grammont : we  are 
not,  therefore,  to  judge  of  the  young  women  of  England 
iy  his  pictures  The  character  of  English  ladies  rose 
again  to  a height  of  moral  elevation  during  the  placid  anJ 
well-conducted  rule  of  Anne,  and  continued,  as  far  as  re- 
latedto  single  women,  to  be  the  pride  and  boast  of  the 
country.  Even  now,  when  the  reckless  flirtation,  loud 
voices,  unamusing  jokes,  which  are  comprised  under  the 
odious  term  chaff,”  and  the  masculine  tastes  of  the  pre- 
sent day  are  deprecated,  events  bring  forth  from  time  to 
time  such  instances  of  devotion  and  virtue  as  must  con- 
vince one  that  there  is  no  degeneracy  in  our  own  country- 
women on  solid  points.  Few,  indeed,  are  these  instances, 
among  the  class  we  have  described.  We  must  not  look 
for  Florence  Nightingales  and  Miss  Marshes  among  that 
company  of  the  fast. 

Contrasted  with  the  fast  young  lady,  comes  forth  the 
prude,  who  sees  harm  in  everything,  and  her  friend  the 
blue-stocking.  You  may  know  the  prude  by  her  stolid 
air  of  resistance  to  mankind  in  general,  and  by  her  pat 
ronizing  manner  to  her  own  sex.  Her  style  of  manner  is 
like  the  Austrian  policy,  repressive ; her  style  of  conver 
Bation,  reprehensive.  She  has  started  in  life  with  an  im 
mense  conceit  of  her  own  mental  powers  and  moral  attri 
bates,  of  which  the  world  in  general  is  scarcely  wortlij 
Her  manner  is  indicative  of  this  conviction  ; and  become 
accordingly,  without  her  intending  it,  offensive,  when  sbf 
believes  herself  to  be  polite. 

The  prude  and  the  pedant  are  often  firm  friends,  eacs 
adoring  the  other.  The  fast  young  lady  deals  largely  if 


306 


THE  CARRIAGE  OF  LADIES. 


epithets:  Idiot,  dolt,  wretch,  humbug,”  drop  from  her 

lips ; but  tlie  prude  and  her  friend  the  blue-stocking  per- 
mit themselves  to  use  conventional  phrases  only ; theii 
notion  of  conversation  is  that  it  be  instructive,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  mystifying.  The  young  blue  stocking  has 
aevertheless,  large  views  of  the  regeneration  of  society 
and  emancipation  of  woman  from  her  degrading  inferiority 
of  social  position.  She  speaks  in  measured  phrase ; it  is 
like  listening  to  a book  to  hear  her.  She  is  wrapt  up  in 
Tennyson  and  Browning.  There  is,  in  all  this,  a great 
aim  at  display,  with  a self-righteousness  that  is  very  un- 
pleasing. Avoid,  therefore,  either  extreme,  and  be  con- 
vinced that  an  artless  gaiety,  tempered  by  refinement, 
always  pleases.  Every  attempt  to  obtrude  on  a company 
subjects  either  to  which  they  are  indifferent,  or  of  which 
they  are  ignorant,  is  in  bad  taste. 

“ Man  should  be  taught  as  though  you  taught  him  not. 

And  things  unknown  proposed  as  things  forgot.” 

It  was  well  said  by  a late  eminent  barrister,  that  litera- 
ture in  ladies  should  be  what  onions  ought  to  be  in  cook- 
ery ? yo^  should  perceive  the  flavor,  but  not  detect  the 
thing  itself. 

The  bearing  of  married  women  should  so  far  difier  from 
that  of  the  unmarried,  that  there  should  be  greater  quiet- 
ness and  dignity  ; a more  close  adherence  to  forms ; and 
an  obvious,  as  well  as  a real  abandonment  of  the  admira* 
tion  which  has  been  received  before  marriage.  All  flirlu- 
Cion,  however  it  may  be  countenanced  by  the  present 
custom  of  society,  should  be  sternly  and  foi  ever  put 
aside.  There  is  no  reason  for  conversation  to  be  less 
lively,  or  society  less  agreeable ; it  is,  indeed,  likely  to  be 


TBE  MARRIED  WOMAN. 


307 


aioie  so,  if  flattered  vanity,  which  may  be  wounded  at 
r.ny  moment,  interposes,  not  to  mar  but  to  enhance  enjoy- 
fi  t:  fit.  If  a young  married  woman  wishes  to  be  respect^ 

< *1  and  therefore  happy  in  life,  there  should  be  a quiel 

ipriety  of  manner,  a dignity  towards  the  male  sex 
^hich  cannot  be  mistaken  in  her  for  prudery,  since  it  i 
consistent  with  her  position  and  her  ties.  She  should 
change  her  tone,  if  that  has  been  ‘^fast;’’  she  should 
not  put  liei  self  on  a level  with  young  unmarried  women 
of  her  own  age,  but  should  influence  and  even  lead  her 
youth  Pal  acquaintance  into  that  style  of  behavior  which 
is  doubtless  much  esteemed  by  men  of  good  taste.  She 
should  rather  discountenance  the  fast,  but  has  no  need  Id 
copy  or  to  bring  forward  the  prude  and  the  blue-stocking, 
And  it  behooves  married  women  to  be  more  especially 
guarded  and  sensible  in  their  conduct,  when  it  is  remem- 
Dered  how  rapidly  the  demoralization  introduced,  perhaps^ 
by  rur  contiguity  with  France,  is  extending  in  every 
class  Formerly,  among  trades-people  and  professional 
men,  separations  and  divorces  were  almost  unheard  of  t 
the  vices  that  lead  to  them  were  looked  on  with  horroi 
by  the  middle  classes.  But  now,  the  schoolmaster  runs 
hway  with  the  wife  of  his  apothecary ; the  brewer  does 
the  fashionable  with  the  attorney’s  wife ; the  baker  in- 
trigues with  the  green-grocer’s  hitherto  worthy  helpmate^ 
xNever,  in  any  time,  have  the  seeds  of  vice  been  so  scat- 
: :)red  by  the  gale  from  one  condition  of  social  life  to  ano 

< ..er ; and  the  infection  of  this  appalling  wickedness  has 
i«icn  spreading,  as  the  Divorce  Court  proves,  silently,  but 
« dely,  for  some  years. 

Every  woman,  however  humble,  even  however  poor,  may 
i one  thing  for  society.  She  may  set  an  example : bu^ 


808 


THE  CARRIAGE  01  LADIES. 


we  call  loudly  on  those  in  the  higher  walks  of  life  to  dt 
so,  and  to  wipe  away  the  reproach  on  Israel. 

In  being  introduced  to  a new  acquaintance,  there  shouM 
be  more  dignity  and  a little  more  distance  in  the  mai.ncj 
the  married  woman  than  that  of  the  single  lady 
When  she  visits  in  a morning  call,  let  her  neither  hunj 
oiF,  after  a few  moments  of  empty  talk  ; nor  stay  too  long, 
never  considering  the  convenience  of  her  who  receives  her 
She  should  walk  gently  down  stairs,  not  talking  loud  tc 
any  one  as  she  goes  Never  let  her  apologize  for  not 
having  called  sooner,  unless  positively  necessary;  such 
apologies  are  vastly  like  affronts. 

In  receiving  guests  the  English  lady  has  much  to  learn 
from  the  French  hostess.  Many  a time  has  the  visitor  in 
England  been  met  with  symptoms  of  hurry  and  preoccu- 
pation, remarkc^bly  embarrassing  to  those  who  call;  or  the 
carriage  is  announced  directly  after  her  arrival,  and  the 
lady  of  the  house  looks  as  if  she  thought  her  friend  ought 
to  go.  Some  under-bred  ladies,  in  country  towns,  look  out 
of  the  window  half  of  the  time,  or  put  tidy  their  work- 
boxes,  making  you  feel  that  you  are  secondary.  As  an 
immutable  law  of  hospitality  and  good-breeding,  a guest 
should  always  be  the  first  and  sole  object  when  alone  with 
you. 

It  is  one  advantage  of  the  French  system  of  having  a 
day  on  which  to  receive  morning  callers^  that  the  lady  of 
the  house  is  ready,  and  willing  to  let  so  man  f Idlers  intc 
her  drawing-room.  In  no  respect  does  the  French  ladj 
shine  so  much  as  in  her  reception  of  those  who,  as  she 
appears  to  think,  “ do  her  the  honor’’  to  enter  her  house. 
It  is  this  that  makes  the  difference.  In  England  we  seem 
to  think  we  do  people  an  honor  in  letting  them  cross  oui 


PHYSICAL  CARRIAGE. 


309 


thresholds  Jknd  come  up  our  stairs.  The  French  la  ly  ad- 
nances  to  meet  the  ladies,  but  waits  to  receive  the  gentle- 
men. She  has  a chair  ready  for  every  one,  and  the  rooms 
of  the  fashionable  are  often  full  to  crowding,  yet  no  on 
is  neglected  Something  civil  (and  ••civil  with  ease^'' 
appropriate,  well-turned,  and  often  gracefully  kind,  is  saio 
to  every  one.  The  stranger  or  foreigner  is  not  left  out  of 
the  conversation  previously  going  on ; he  or  she  is  not 
made  to  feel  you  are  not  one  of  us  ; the  sooner  you  go 
the  better.”  The  conversation  is  soon  general,  though 
«fithout  introductions.  Having  said  all  you  wish,  and 
stayed  the  usual  time,  you  rise,  and  the  lady  follows  you 
CO  the  door,  where  a servant  is  waiting  to  conduct  you 
down  stairs  and  call  your  carriage  into  the  coiir.  This 
igreeable  accueil  forms  a strong  contrast  to  the  ennui 
v^hich  a maUd-jjropos  visit  often  seems  to  produce  in  a 
London  drawing-room,  and  the  evident  despatch  with  which 
ft  lady  often  rings  the  bell  to  let  you  out,  often  sitting  down 
and  resuming  a conversation  before  you  are  half  across  the 
old  and  spacious  apartment. 

In  regard  to  the  physical  carriage  of  women,  the  graces 
of  an  upright  form,  of  elegant  and  gentle  movements,  and 
of  the  desirable  medium  between  stiffness  and  lounging, 
are  desirable  both  for  married  and  single.  The  same  ruler* 
and  recommendations  are  applicable  to  both.  Control  over 
the  countenance  is  a part  of  manners.  As  a lady  enters 
a drawing-room,  she  should  look  for  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  speaking  first  to  her.  Her  face  should  wear  a 
imila ; she  should  not  rush  in  head-foremost ; a graceful 
bearing,  a light  step,  an  elegant  bend  to  common  acquaint 
ance,  a cordial  pressure,  riot  shaking^  of  the  hand  ex* 
tended  to  her,  are  all  requisite  to  a lady.  Let  her  sini 


810 


THE  CARRIAGE  OF  LADIES. 


gently  into  a chair,  and,  on  formal  occasions,  retain  hei 
upright  position ; neither  lounge  nor  sit  timorously  on  the 
edge  of  her  seat.  Her  feet  should  scarcely  be  shown,  and 
not  crossed.  She  must  avoid  sitting  stiffly,  as  if  a ramrc  i 
were  introduced  within  the  dress  behind,  or  stooping 
Excepting  a very  small  and  costly  parasol,  it  is  not  no^ 
usual  to  bring  those  articles  into  a room.  An  eleganth 
worked  handkerchief  is  carried  in  the  hand,  but  not  dis- 
played so  much  as  at  dinner  parties.  A lady  should  con- 
quer a habit  of  breathing  hard,  or  coming  in  very  hot,  or 
even  looking  very  blue  and  shivery.  Anything  that  de- 
tracts from  the  pleasure  of  society  is  in  bad  taste. 

In  walking  the  feet  should  be  moderately  turned  out, 
the  steps  should  be  equal,  firm,  and  light.  A lady  may 
be  known  by  her  walk.  The  short,  rapid  steps,  the  shak- 
ing the  body  from  side  to  side,  or  the  very  slow  gait  which 
many  ladies  consider  genteel,  are  equally  to  be  deprecated. 
Some  persons  are  endowed  with  a natural  grace  that  wants 
no  teaching ; where  it  is  not  the  case,  the  greatest  care 
should  be  taken  to  engraft  it  in  childhood,  to  have  a master, 
not  for  dancing  alone,  but  for  the  even  more  important  at- 
tributes of  the  lady’s  carriage.  To  bow  with  grace,  oi 
to  curtesy  when  required,  to  move  across  a room  Wc'l,  are 
points  which  strike  the  attention  almost  unconsciously  tc 
ourselves,  and  the  neglect  of  which  often  provokes  com* 
ment  even  on  those  in  other  respects  well  qualified  to  adjn 
iocietj. 


PART  11. 


fBE  INDIVIDUAL  IN  INDIVIDIaL  RELAri3N8 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IN  PUBLIC  THE  PROMENADE,  ETC. 

So  now,  my  dear  Sir  and  my  dear  Madam,  you  are  dressed, 
you  have  your  accomplishments  ready  for  use,  you  kno\^ 
how  to  carry  yourself,  what  good  habits  to  attend  to,  whai 
bad  ones  to  avoid ; you  have  made  a full  examination  of 
yourself ; you  feel  confident  that  you  are  a complete  gen 
tleman,”  or  a charming  woman  you  have  had  lunch, 
you  feel  comfortable  and  happy,  and  you  say  to  yourself 
Let  me  go  out  and  put  these  good  rules  into  practice.’’ 

So  then,  if  you  are  a man,  you  consult  nobody  but  youi 
watch ; if  you  are  a young  lady,  you  consult  mamma,  and 
both  having  obtained  the  requisite  assent,  you,  sir,  issue 
forth  with  your  watch,  and  you,  mademoiselle,  with  your 
chaperon,  and  you  go  to  meet  your  acquaintance  in  tha 
walk.  Where  the  said  walk  may  be  is  little  matter.  In 
the  days  of  the  Stuarts,  you  would  have  repaired  to  the 
transepts  of  old  St.  Paul’s,  then  the  fashionable  promenade. 
In  a later  reign  you  would  have  turned  your  steps  to  the 
' Mall,”  and  met  Beau  Tibbs  there  in  all  his  glory.  N3w, 

(311) 


312 


IN  PUBLIC.  THE  PROMENADE,  ETC. 


if  you  live  in  London,  you  make  for  Rotten  Row ; if  iB 
a watering-place,  for  the  Promenade  or  the  Parade,  or 
bref^  whatever  may  be  the  spot  chosen  for  the  gay  peacocte 
to  strut  in. 

You  have  not  been  there  tw’o  minutes  before  you  metl 
somebody  you  know.  But  that  is  a very  vague  term  ; 
for  you  may  know  people  in  almost  a dozen  different 
ways.  First,  then,  you  ki.ow  them  slightly,  and  wish  to 
recognize  them  slightly.  Your  course  is  simple  enough. 
If  you  are  a lady,  you  have  the  privilege  of  recognizing  a 
gentleman.  You  wish  to  do  so,  because  there  is  no  rea- 
son that  you  should  not  be  polite  to  him.  So  when  you 
come  quite  near  to  him  and  see  that  he  is  looking  at  you, 
you  bow  slightly,  and  pass  on.  There  are  one  or  two 
things  to  be  avoided  even  in  this.  You  must  not,  how- 
ever short-sighted,  raise  your  glasses  and  stare  at  him 
through  them  before  you  bow ; but  as  it  is  very  awkward 
for  a lady  to  bow  by  mistake  to  a gentleman  she  does  not 
know,  you  should  look  at  him  well  before  you  come  up  to 
him.  If  you  are  a man,  on  the  other  hand,  and  you  meet 
a lady  whom  you  know  slightly,  you  must  wait  till  she 
bows  to  you.  You  then  lift  your  hat  quite  off  your  head 
with  the  hand,  whichever  it  may  be,  which  is  farther  from 
the  person  you  meet.  You  lift  it  off  your  bead,  but  that 
is  all ; you  have  no  need,  as  they  do  in  France,  to  show 
the  world  the  inside  thereof ; so  you  immediately  rep]a-r<' 
it.  In  making  this  salute,  you  bend  your  body  slightly. 
If,  which  should  rarely  occur,  you  happen  to  be  smoking 
you  take  your  cigar  from  your  mouth  with  the  othei 
hand ; so  too,  if  you  have  your  hands  in  your  pockets 
which  I hope  you  will  not,  you  take  them  out  before  bow- 


THE  SALUTE. 


318 


Ing.  To  neglect  these  little  observances  would  show  a 
want  of  respect. 

But  suppose  it  is  a person  whom  you  know  rather  more 
than  slightly,  and  to  whom  you  may  speak.  Well,  then 
no  man  may  stop  to  speak  to  a lady  until  she  stops  to 
Speak  to  him.  The  lady,  in  short,  has  the  right  in  all  cases 
to  be  friendly  or  distant.  Women  have  not  many  rights ; 
let  us  gracefully  concede  the  few  that  they  possess.  You 
raise  your  hat  all  the  same,  but  you  do  not  shake  hands 
unless  the  lady  puts  out  hers,  which  you  may  take  as  a 
tfign  of  particular  good-will.  In  this  case  you  must  not 
stop  long,  but  the  lady  again  has  the  right  to  prolong  the 
interview  at  pleasure.  It  is  she,  not  you,  who  must  make 
the  move  onwards.  If  she  does  this  in  the  middle  of  a 
conversation,  it  is  a proof  that  she  is  willing  that  you 
should  join  her,  and  if  you  have  no  absolute  call  to  go 
your  way,  you  ought  to  do  so.  But  if  she  does  so  with  a 
slight  inclination,  it  is  to  dismiss  you,  and  you  must  then 
again  bow  and  again  raise  your  hat. 

K,  however,  you  are  old  acquaintance  without  any  quar- 
rel between,  you  should,  whether  gentleman  or  lady,  at 
once  stop  and  give  the  hand  and  enter  into  conversation. 
The  length  of  this  conversation  must  depend  on  the  place 
where  you  meet.  If  in  the  streets,  it  should  be  very 
short ; if  in  a regular  promenade,  it  may  be  longer ; but 
as  a rule,  old  friends  do  better  to  turn  round  and  join 
forces.  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  are  walking  with  a 
nan  whom  your  lady  friend  does  not  know,  you  must  no^ 
stop , still  less  so,  if  she  is  walking  with  a lady  or  gen  • 
tleman  whom  you  do  not  know.  If,  however,  a decided 
inclination  is  evinced  by  either  to  speak  to  the  other,  and 
ou  so  stop,  the  stranger  ought  not  to  walk  on,  but  tc 
14 


S14 


THE  PROMENa:>E,  etc. 


stop  also,  and  it  then  behooves  you  to  introduce  him  oi 
her.  Such  an  introduction  is  merely  formal^  and  goes  w 
further. 

Lastly,  let  us  suppose  that  you  want  to  cut’’  youjp 
aocj[uaintance.  0 fie  ! Who  invented  the  cut  ? What  de- 
mon put  it  into  the  head  of  man  or  woman  to  give  this 
mute  token  of  contempt  or  haired  ? I do  not  know,  but  1 
do  know  that  in  modern  civilized  life,  as  it  goes,  the  cut 
is  a great  institution.  The  finest  specimen  of  it  which 
we  have  on  record  is  that  of  Beau  Brummell  and  George  IV. 
These  two  devoted  friends  had  quarrelled,  as  devot- 
ed friends  are  wont  to  do,  and  when  they  met  again, 
George,  then  Prince,  was  walking  up  St.  James’  Streen 
on  the  arm  of  some  companion,  and  Brummell,  dressed  to 
perfection,  was  coming  down  it  on  that  of  another.  The 
two  companions  happened  to  know  one  another,  and  all 
four  stopped.  George  the  Prince  was  determined  to  is 
nore  George  the  Beau’s  existence  and  talked  to  his  com- 
panion without  appearing  to  see  him.  George  the  Bear 
expected  this,  but  was  still  mortified.  They  all  bowed 
and  moved  away  ; but  before  the  Prince  was  out  of  hear- 
ing, Prummell  said  to  his  companion  in  a loud  voice. 
‘‘Who’s  your  fat  friend?”  It  is  well  known  that  the 
Recent  grieved  at  that  time  most  bitterly  over  his  grow- 
ing corpulency,  and  the  Beau  was  avenged. 

But  my  advice  to  anybody  who  wishes  to  cut  an  ac 
uaintance  is,  most  emphatically,  Don’t.  In  the  first  place, 
it  is  vulgar,  and  a custom  which  the  vulgar  affect.  It  is 
pretentious,  and  seems  to  say,  “ You  are  not  good  enough 
for  me  to  know.”  All  pretension  is  vulgar.  In  the  next 
place,  it  does  the  cutter  as  much  injury  as  the  cuttee.  The 
latter,  if  worthless,  revenges  himself  by  denouncing  th« 


THE  CUT. 


815 


former  as  stuck  up,  unpolite,  ill-bred , if  nimself  well- 
bred,  he  says  nothing  about  it,  but  inwardly  condemns  and 
despises  you.  Now,  in  a world  where  love  is  at  a premium 
and  even  respect  is  not  cheap,  it  is  a pity  to  add,  by  foolish 
‘ride,  to  the  number  of  those  who  dislike  you ; but.  if 
here  were  no  other  consideration,  it  is  extremely  uncliris 
tian,  to  say  the  least  of  it.  It  is  a giving  of  offence  ; and 
woe  to  him  by  whom  offences  come.  It  is  the  consequence 
either  of  pride  or  of  judging  your  neighbor,  both  of  which 
are  bad  faults.  Lastly,  it  raises  up  for  ever  between  two 
people  a barrier  which  neither  years  nor  regret  can  sur 
mount.  It  is  a silent  but  desperate  quarrel,  but,  unlike 
^ther  quarrels,  it  is  never  followed  by  a reconciliation. 
Che  Christian  law  used  to  be,  ‘‘  If  you  have  aught  against 
four  brother,  go  and  expostulate  with  him.’’  The  mode:  a 
social  law — not,  however,  the  law  of  good  society — mak  3 
4n  amendment : Do  not  take  the  trouble  to  go  to  him-  > 
it  will  do  no  good — but  cut  him  dead  when  you  meet,  an  3 
60  get  rid  of  him  for  ever.”  Yes,  Dead !”  Dead, 
mdeed ; for  all  the  love,  all  the  forgiveness  there  migh\ 
flow  between  you,  he  is  as  good  as  dead  to  you.  what  ia 
more,  you  have  killed  him. 

But  the  cut  is  often  a silly  measure,  and  far  too  promptly 
resorted  to.  At  Bath  you  have  known  the  Simpkinses, 
and  even  been  intimate  with  them,  but  in  Town  you  take 
t into  your  head  they  are  '^inferior;”  you  meet  and 
'ut  them.  Well,  a fortnight  later,  you  find  that  Ladj 
So-and-so  is  particularly  partial  to  the  Simpkinses.  ‘ D<\ 
70U  know  those  charming  girls  ?”  she  asks,  and  how  foolish 
you  then  feel.  Or  again.  Captain  Mactavish  is  your  best 
and  most  amusing  friend ; slander  whispers  in  your  eai’, 
'*  Mactavish  was  cashiered  for  fraudulent  transactions " 


816 


THE  PROMENADE,  ETC. 


You  go  out,  happen  to  meet,  and  cut  him  dead.  The  next 
day  the  truth  comes  out.  It  is  another  Mactavish  who  was 
cashiered,  and  your  friend  is  a model  of  honor.  Whal 
can  you  do  ? You  cannot  tell  him  you  made  a mistake 
U would  then  be  his  turn  to  take  a high  hand.  No 
no  says  he,  when  you  offer  to  renew  the  friendship,  if 
you  could  so  soon  believe  evil  of  me,  you  are  not  the  man 
for  Mactavish.  Besides,  you  cut  me  yesterday,  and  I can 
forgive  everything  but  a cut.’’  Or  again,  papa  is  alarmed 
at  the  attentions  of  young  Montmorency.  A penniless 
boy  making  love  to  Matilda  !”  he  cries  indignantly,  and 
orders  the  said  Matilda  and  her  mamma  to  cut  him.  Mont- 
morency, in  pique,  runs  off  to  Miss  Smith,  offers,  and 
marries  her.  It  is  then  discovered  that  Montmorency  has 
a bachelor  uncle  whose  whole  fortune  will  come  to  him, 
and  Matilda  is  miserable. 

But  there  are  some  cases  in  which  a cut  becomes  the 
sole  means  of  ridding  one’s-self  of  annoyance,  and  with 
young  ladies  especially  so.  A girl  has  no  other  means  of 
escaping  from  the  familiarity  of  a pushing  and  thick- 
skinned  man.  She  cannot  always  be  certain  that  the 
people  introduced  to  her  are  gentlemen ; pleased  with  them 
at  first,  she  gives  them  some  encouragement,  till  some  oc- 
casion or  other  lays  bare  the  true  character  of  her  new 
acquaintance.  What  is  she  to  do  ? He  requires  so  little  to 
encourage  him,  that  even  a recognition  would  be  sufficient 
^ bring  him  on.  She  has  nothing  left  but  to  cut  him 
lead.  The  cut,  however,  should  be  positively  the  last  re- 
lource.  There  are  many  ways,  less  offensive  and  more 
dignified,  of  showing  that  you  do  not  wish  for  intimacy , 
the  stiff  bow  without  a smile  is  enough  to  show  a man  of 
any  preception  that  he  need  not  make  farther  advances 


THE  CUT. 


sr 


md  as  for  cutting  people  of  real  or  imaginary  inferiority 
it  is  the  worst  of  vulgarity.  We  laugh  at  the  silly  pride 
of  the  small  dressmaker  who  declines  to  go  through  the 
kitchen.  Not  accustomed  to  associate  with  menials/’ 
he  tells  you,  and  knocks  at  the  front  door  ; we  smile  at 
the  costermonger  who  cannot  lower  himself  to  recognise 
the  crossing-sweeper  ; and  how  absurd  to  those  of  a higher 
class  than  our  own  must  the  Smiths,  whose  father  was  a 
physician,  appear,  when  they  cut  the  Simpkinses,  whose 
progenitor  is  only  a surgeon,  and  so  on.  But  if  you  have 
once  known  people  you  should  always  know  them,  if  they 
have  not  done  anything  to  merit  indignation.  If  you 
have  once  been  familiar  with  the  Simpkinses,  you  are  not 
only  inconsistent  and  vulgar,  but  you  accuse  yourself  of 
former  want  of  perception,  if  now  you  discover  that  they 
are  too  low  for  you  to  know. 

But,  if  a cut  must  be  made,  let  it  be  done  with  as  little 
ofiFensiveness  as  possible.  Let  the  miserable  culprit  not 
be  tortured  to  death,  or  broken  in  the  social  wheel,  like  a 
Damiens,  however  treasonable  his  offence.  Never,  on  any 
account,  allow  him  to  speak  to  you,  and  then  staring  him 
in  the  face,  exclaim,  ‘‘  Sir,  I do  not  know  you  !”  or,  as 
ome  people,  trying  to  make  rudeness  elegant,  would  say, 
“ Sir,  I have  not  the  honor  of  your  acquaintance/’  nor 
behead  him  with  the  fixed  stare ; but  rather  let  him  see 
that  you  have  noticed  his  approach,  and  then  turn  year 
head  away.  If  he  is  thick-skinned  or  daring  enough  to 
■come  up  to  you  after  that,  bow  to  him  stifily  and  pass  oa 
In  this  way  you  avoid  insolence,  and  cause  less  of  tha 
destroyer  of  good  manners — confusion. 

There  are  some  definite  rules  for  cutting.  A gentle- 
man must  never  cut  a lady  under  any  circumstances.  An 


818 


THE  PROMENADE,  ETC. 


anmarried  lady  should  never  cut  a married  one.  A ser 
Vdnt  of  whatever  class — for  there  are  servants  up  tc 
royalty  itself — should  never  cut  his  master ; near  relationi 
should  never  cut  one  another  at  all ; and  a clergyman 
should  never  cut  anybody,  because  it  is  at  best  an  unchiis 
tian  action.  Perhaps  it  may  be  added  that  a superior 
should  never  cut  his  inferior  in  rank ; he  has  many  other 
ways  of  annihilating  him.  Certainly  it  may  be  laid  down 
that  people  holding  temporary  official  relations  must  waive 
their  private  animosities,  and  that  two  doctors,  for  instance, 
however  much  opposed  to  one  another,  should  never  intro- 
duce the  cut  over  the  bed  of  a patient. 

I pass  now  to  a much  pleasanter  theme,  that  of  saluta 
lion.  I know  not  when  men  first  discovered  that  some 
sign  was  necessary  to  show  their  good-will  to  one  another 
Hatred,  the  ugliest  of  all  the  demons,  (and  they  are  not 
renowned  for  beauty),  took  a reserved  seat  early  in  the 
history  of  the  world,  and  the  children  of  Cain  and  Seth, 
if  they  ever  met,  must  have  found  it  necessary  to  hold  out 
some  human  flag  of  truce.  What  this  may  have  been  we 
have  no  records  to  prove,  but  it  is  certain  that  prostra- 
tion, which  made  a man  helpless  for  the  moment,  was  a 
very  early  form  of  salutation,  and  one  that  has  not  yet 
gone  out,  for  kneeling,  which  is  only  a simpler  form  of  it, 
it  still  preserved  in  our  courts.  But  this  was  too  awkward 
a practice  for  everyday  life,  especially  when  men  gathered 
*nto  cities  and  met  their  fellow-creatures  daily  in  large 
numbers.  Fancy  a member  of  Parliament  bobbing  down  on 
his  ‘‘  marrow-bones’’  whenever  he  met  a constituent,  or  a 
clergyman  wearing  the  knees  of  his  black  limb  covers’- 
into  shining  patches  as  he  walked  the  parish  and  met  Tim 
Miles  and  George  Giles  at  every  corner.  The  question  thee 


ABOUT  SALUTATION. 


816 

arose  how  to  show  the  same  good-will  without  the  same  in- 
con  venieuce,  and  which  of  the  senses  should  be  employed 
in  it.  We  looked  at  the  brute  creation,  Tvhich,  in  its  gift  of 
instinct,  seemed  to  have  as  it  were  a direct  revelation  foi 
such  things,  but  found  little  counsel.  Dogs  wagged  tlieir 
tails,  but  their  masters  had  none  to  wag,  except  indeed 
among  the  Niam-Niam,  and  even  with  them  it  is  doubtful 
wnether  the  necessary  pliability  exists.  Horses  know  their 
friends  by  the  smell,  and  Mr.  Rarey  tells  us  that  we  need 
never  fear  a horse  which  has  sniffed  us  all  over,  for  the  sim- 
ple reason  that  it  will  no  longer  fear  us.  But  though  it  is 
said  you  may  tell  a Chinaman,  as  the  ancients  told  an  Ibe- 
rian, par  son  ocleur^  and  though  you  may  certainly  recognize 
a modern  fop  by  his  smelling  of  musk  and  insolence,’’  yet 
it  does  not  appear  that  there  is  any  perfume  by  which  the 
human  being  can  assure  you  of  his  good  intentions.  The 
prostration  was  probably  therefore  first  followed  by  a deep 
inclination  of  the  body,  which  we  preserve  faintly  enough 
in  our  modern  bow,  and  which  was  the  recognized  form  cf 
worship  in  several  eastern  countries.  Another  modifica- 
tion of  prostration,  which  was  preserved  in  this  country 
between  servants  and  masters  till  the  end  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  was  that  of  making  a knee,”  as  Ben 
Jonson  calls  it,  w^hich  was  nothing  more  than  slightly 
bending  one  leg  and  so  lowering  the  body.  But  these 
forms  were  too  much  for  some  people  and  too  little  for 
others.  The  children  of  this  world  soon  discovered  that 
they  were  not  all  children  alike,  and  made  early  a marked 
distinction  of  persons.  The  salute  fit  for  a chieftain  was 
much  too  good  for  a serf,  and  the  serf  himself  was  not 
going  to  make  a knee  to  a brother  serf,  however  mucti  he 
liked  him.  In  fact,  it  became  necessary  to  distinguish  be 


/ 


320  THE  PROMENADE,  ETC 

tween  the  amount  of  respect  due  to  position  (for  cliaractei 
soon  lost  its  due  recognition),  and  the  amount  of  cordial- 
ity due  to  frien..o^ip.  Thus  some  form  of  inclination  re- 
mained in  use  for  the  salute  of  respect,  and  thus  the  eye 
was  the  sense  there  employed.  The  principle  of  respect 
was  brought  variously  into  practice,  but  in  no  way  so 
prominently  as  that  of  baring  some  part  of  the  body, 
thereby  putting  the  saluter  to  a temporary  inconvenience, 
and  laying  him  open  to  the  attack  of  the  saluted.  In  one 
country  the  shoes  were  taken  off,  in  another  the  head- 
gear,  though  St.  Paul's  philosophic,  if  not  very  gallant, 
distinction  relative  to  the  honor  of  a man  laying  in  his 
head,  and  that  of  a woman  elsewhere,  would  seem  to 
make  the  Orientals  more  consistent  in  keeping  their  tur- 
bans on  and  taking  off  their  slippers.  In  no  country, 
however,  do  we  hear  of  women  taking  their  bonnets  off, 
as  a salute,  though  in  some  to  unveil  the  face  was  a mark 
of  great  reverence.  That,  of  course  would  depend  on 
whether  it  was  a pretty  face  or  not ; but  however  this  may 
be,  the  forms  of  salutation  which  have  been  retained 
among  European  nations  are  much  the  same ; the  bow, 
namely,  as  a relic  of  prostration,  and  baring  the  head, 
among  men ; while  among  women  the  prostration  was 
kept  up  to  a much  later  date,  and  the  curtsey,  in  w^nch 
the  knees  were  bowed,  is  not  yet  quite  vanished  from  the 
modesty  of  our  land.  Maid-servants  and  country  wives 
retain  it  still. 

But  when  we  come  to  cordiality  we  find  another  sense 
brought  into  action.  Words  were  known  to  be  concealers 
of  thought,  so  that  the  sense  of  hearing  was  out  of  the 
question,  while  smelling  and  tasting  were  unanimously 
70ted  brutish  ; and  those  poets  who  talk  about  tasting 


THE  KISS. 


321 


the  hcney  of  her  lips,”  are  fitted  to  Le  laureates  in  the 
cannibal  islands  rather  than  in  the  British  kingdoms 
There  remained  then  the  sense  of  touch,  which,  if  iio» 
the  most  delicate,  is  one  which  the  human  race  particu 
larly  depend  on,  as  our  blind  children  learn  to  know  evei 
colors  thereby.  Besides,  owing  to  the  absence  of  fur  in 
our  race,  the  sense  of  touch  is  more  acute  in  us  than 
in  any  other  animals. 

Well,  on  the  touch-and-know  principle,  some  races  im* 
mediately  undertook  to  conduce  to  each  other’s  comfort  as 
a token  of  cordiality.  In  the  frost-bitten  regions  of  Lap- 
land,  for  instance,  it  is  the  fashion  to  run  up  to  your 
friend  and  rub  his  nose  with  yours.  It  is  a mute  ex- 
pression of  the  wish  that  his  proboscis  may  not  drop  off 
some  cold  morning  ; and  indeed  this  custom  must  assist  in 
preserving  that  graceful  feature  from  the  effects  of  frost, 
so  that  the  man  with  the  largest  acquaintance  is  also  like- 
ly to  have  the  largest  nose.  In  Southern  Africa  again, 
where  the  feet  get  terribly  dry  from  the  heat  of  the  soil, 
it  is  the  custom  to  rub  toes ; and  in  some  country  or  other, 
the  height  of  elegance  is  to  moisten  the  hand  in  the  most 
natural  manner,  and  smear  your  friend’s  face  with  it. 

These  customs,  however,  must  ha.ve  had  a somewhat 
local  appreciation,  and  have  not  received  general  approba- 
tion. There  are  now  two  recognised  modes  of  cordial 
salutation — the  kiss  and  the  shake  of  the  hand.  Whether 
kissing  was  known  in  Paradise,  as  Byron,  whc  had  some 
experience  of  it  (kissing,  I mean,  not  Paradise),  assures 

U£ ; 

“ One  remnant  of  Paradise  still  is  on  earth. 

And  Eden  revives  in  the  first  kiss  of  love  ; * * 

w«  cannot  stop  to  investigate,  but  that  it  was  a very  earlj 
14* 


322 


THE  PROMENADE,  BTC. 


discovery,  those  who  read  their  Bibles  maj  find  out,  ll 
is  a beautiful  custom,  an  angelic  custom ; I say  it  without 
blushing,  because  it  was  originally,  and  in  many  countrit:# 
is-  “let  us  hope  even  in  England — the  most  innocent  tliii-g 
in  tlie  world.  Certainly,  about  the  period  of  our  ov,  li 
eiu,  the  kiss  of  peace’’  was  a mark  of  love  between 
men  though  in  some  cases  it  was  made  to  serve  the  dead- 
liest ends.  It  is  still  in  use  between  men  in  France  and 
Germany.  The  parent  kisses  his  grown-up  son  on  the 
forehead  ; friends  press  their  lips  to  others’  cheeks  ; bro- 
thers throw  their  arms  round  one  another’s  necks  and 
embrace  like  lovers.  Alack  and  alas  ! for  our  stiff  hu- 
manity. Here  in  England  it  is  reserved  for  children  and 
girls,  and  for  Minnie  to  stop  my  lips  with  when  I am 
going  to  scold  her.  Well,  it  is  a beautiful  old  custom,  all 
the  same,  and  if  we  were  not  so  wicked  in  this  nine- 
teenth century,  we  should  have  more  of  it.  In  the  days 
of  good  Queen  Bess  it  w^as  the  height  of  politeness  to 
kiss  your  neighbor’s  wife,  and  our  grandfathers  tell  us 
that  on  entering  a room  they  kissed  all  the  women  present 
as  a matter  of  course.  This  privilege  is  reserved  now  for 
Scotch  cousins,  who  make  a very  free  use  of  it.  But, 
alas  ! this  beautiful  symbol  of  pure  affection,  which  sent 
a thrill  from  warm  lips  through  all  the  frame,  is  now  be- 
come a matter  of  almost  shame  to  us.  It  is  a deed  to 
done  behiid  the  door,  as  Horace  Smith  hints. 

“ Sydney  Morgan  was  playing  the  organ, 

While  behind  the  vestry  door 
Horace  Twiss  was  snatching  a kiss 
From  the  lips  of  Hannah  Moore.” 

Poor  Hannah  Moore  ! how  the  very  thought  d usi  bafi 
shrivelled  her  up. 


THE  KISS. 


822 


kiss  of  mere  respect  was  made  on  tke  hand,  a good 
Ai  e.ttstGin  still  retained  in  Germany,  and  among  a fe^ 
old  beaux  at  home.  Whether  it  was  pure  respect  whicl 
Induced  Leicester  often  to  kiss  the  Virgin  Queen  on  he: 
lips,  which,”  we  are  told,  she  took  right  heartily,”  i 
cannot  say ; but  at  all  events  in  this  day,  the  kissing  of 
the  lips  is  reserved  for  lovers,  and  should  scarcely  be  per* 
foimed  in  public.  But  the  kiss  of  friendship  and  rela- 
tionship on  the  cheeks  or  forehead  is  still  kept  up  a little, 
and  might  be  much  more  common.  I like  to  see  a young 
man  kiss  his  mother  on  her  wrinkled  brow  ; it  shows 
“ there  is  no  humbug  about  him.”  I like  to  see  sisters 
kiss,  and  old  friends  when  they  meet  again.  But  I may 
like  what  I like.  The  world  is  against  me,  and  as  it  is  a 
delicate  subject  I will  say  no  more  on  it,  save  only  this, — 
As  a general  rule,  this  act  of  affection  is  excluded  from 
public  eyes  in  this  country,  and  there  are  people  who  are 
ashamed  even  to  kiss  a brother  or  father  on  board  the 
steamer  which  is  to  take  him  away  for  some  ten  or  twenty 
years.  But  then  there  are  people  in  England  who  are 
ashamed  of  showing  any  feeling,  however  natural,  how- 
ever pure.  This  is  a matter  in  which  I would  not  have 
etiquette  interfere.  Let  the  world  say  it  is  rustic,  or  even 
vulgar,  to  kiss  your  friends  on  the  platform  of  a railway, 
before  they  start  or  when  they  arrive.  It  is  never  vulgai 
to  be  loving,  and  love  that  is  real  love  will  show  itself 
though  there  were  ten  Acts  of  Parliament  against  it. 

‘‘  A cold  hand  and  a warm  heart”  is  an  old  saw,  whicl 
may  be  true  for  the  temperature  of  the  skin,  but  is  cer^ 
fcainly  not  so  for  the  mode  of  pressing  it.  A warm  heart.^ 
I am  persuaded,  gives  a warm  shake  of  the  hand,  and  a 
man  must  be  a hypocrite,  who  can  shake  yours  heartily 


324 


THE  PROMENADE,  ETC. 


while  he  hates  you.  The  hand  is  after  all  the  most  natu 
ral  limb  to  salute  with.  Next  to  those  of  the  lips,  the 
nerves  of  touch  are  most  highly  developed  in  the  fingers 
which  may  be  accounted  for  by  the  perpetual  friction  and 
irritation  tc  which  they  are  subjected,  for  we  know  that 
those  portions  of  the  skin  are  the  most  ticklish  which  un- 
dergo the  most  friction.  However  this  may  be,  the  hand 
is  the  most  convenient  member  to  salute  with.  The  toe 
rubbing  process,  for  instance,  must  subject  one  to  the  risk 
of  toppling  over  in  any  but  a dignified  manner  ; “ mak- 
ing a knee’'  was  liable  to  be  followed  by  breaking  a nose, 
if  the  balance  were  not  carefully  preserved,  and  as  for  the 
total  prostration  system,  I feel  convinced  that  it  must 
have  been  given  up  by  common  consent  after  dinner,  and 
by  corpulent  personages.  But  the  charm  of  the  hand,  as 
a saluting  member,  lies  in  the  fact  of  its  grasping  power 
which  enables  the  shaker  to  vary  the  salute  at  pleasure. 
The  freemasons  well  know  this,  and  though  they  begin 
the  mysterious  salute  with  signs  for  the  eye,  they  are  raie- 
ly  satisfied  till  they  have  followed  them  up  by  the  giasp, 
which  varies  for  almost  every  grade,  for  apprentice,  mas- 
ter, royal  arch,  knight  templar,  and  all  their  other  absur- 
dities. My  worthy  masons,  do  not  suppose  that  you 
possess  a monopoly  of  this  art.  There  is  as  cunning  a 
freomasonry  in  all  society,  and  the  mode  of  taking,  grasp- 
ing, and  shaking  the  hand,  varies  as  much  according  to 
circumstances,  and  even  more,  than  your  knuckling  sjs* 
tern. 

First,  there  is  the  case  where  two  hands  simply  take 
hold  of  one  another.  This  is  the  mode  of  very  shy  pec« 
pie,  and  of  two  lovers  parting  in  tears  : but  then  in  the 
me  case  the  hold  is  brief,  in  the  other  continued.  Next 


HAND-SHAKING 


there  is  the  case  where  one  hand  is  laid  clammily  in  the 
other,  which  slightly  presses  the  fingers,  not  going  down 
to  the  palm.  This  is  a favorite  mode  with  ladies,  espe- 
cially young  ladies,  towards  slight  acquaintance ; but 
vhen  my  heart  flutters  a little  for  Mariana’s  smile,  1 
sliould  be  piqued  indeed,  nay,  shocked,  if  there  wert 
nothing  more  than  fingers  laid  in  my  hand,  no  responsive 
thumb  to  complete  the  manoeuvre,  and  when  Sybilla  told 
me  she  could  not  love  me,  and  when  she  would  not  listen, 
but  hurried  away  up  the  terrace  steps,  and  turned  to  give 
me  the  last — last  shake  of  a hand,  I have  never  touched 
again,  I cannot  tell  you  what  of  despair  she  saved  me  in 
the  friendly  warmth — I do  not  say  afiection — with  which 
she  wrung  my  hand  that  passionately  clung  round  hers. 
Ah ! Sybilla,  better  have  left  that  hand  with  me,  have 
given  it  me  for  ever,  than  to  the  wealthy  wig-wearing, 
rouged  and  powdered  bear,  to  whom  they  sold  you  after- 
wards. 

Next,  there  is  the  terribly  genteel  salute  of  the  under- 
bred man,  who  with  a smirk  on  his  face,  just  touches  the 
tips  of  your  fingers,  as  if  they  were  made  of  glass ; there 
is  the  blunt  honest  shake  of  the  rough,  who  lays  out  his 
hand  with  the  palm  open  and  the  heart  in  the  hollow  of 
it,  stretches  it  well  out,  and  shakes  and  rattles  the  one 
you  put  into  it ; there  is  the  pouncing  style  of  him  whe 
affects  but  does  not  feel  cordiality,  who  brings  the  angle 
between  thumb  and  finger  down  upon  you  like  gaping 
shears  * there  is  the  hailing  style  of  the  indifferent  man 
who  seems  to  say  to  your  hand,  “ Come  and  be  shaken 
there  is  the  style  of  the  man  who  gives  your  hand  one 
toss,  as  if  he  were  ringing  the  dinner-bell ; and  anothej 
bell-ringing  style  is  that  of  milady,  who  shakes  her  owf 


626 


THE  PROMENADE.  ETC. 


hand  from  the  wrist  with  a neat  fine  little  movement,  and 
does  not  care  whether  yours  shakes  in  it  or  not ; there  ia 
genius  who  clasps  your  hands  in  both  of  his  and  beams 
into  your  face;  and  there  is  love  who  seizes  it  to  press  il 
tighter  and  more  tightly,  and  sends  his  whole  soul  through 
the  fingers. 

But  the  styles  are  infinite  ; there  is  the  mesmeric  style 
where  the  shaker  seems  to  make  a pass  down  you  before 
getting  at  your  hand ; there  is  papa’s  style,  coming  down 
with  an  open-handed  smack,  that  you  may  hear  half  the 
length  of  Parliament  Street ; there  is  the  solemn  style, 
where  the  elbow  is  tucked  into  the  side,  like  the  wing  of 
a trussed  fowl,  and  the  long  fingers  are  extended  with  the 
thumb  in  close  attendance ; there  is  the  hearty  double- 
knock style  of  three  rapid  shakes  ; there  is  the  melan- 
choly style,  where  the  hand  is  heaved  up  once  or  twice 
slowly  and  lowered  despairingly ; there  is  the  adulatory 
style,  where  it  is  raised  towards  the  bent  head  as  if  to  be 
•nspected  ; there  is  the  hail-fellow  style,  where  the  arm  is 
stretched  out  sideways,  and  the  eyes  say,  ‘‘There’s  my 
hand,  old  boy  !”  Then  of  styles  to  be  always  avoided, 
there  is  the  swinging  style,  where  your  arm  is  tossed  from 
side  to  side  ; there  is  the  wrenching  style,  by  which  your 
knuckles  are  made  to  ache  for  five  minutes  after ; and 
there  is  the  condescending  style,  where  twn  fingers  are 
held  out  to  you  as  a great  honor.  But,  the  best  style  of 
all,  me  judice,  is  the  hearty  single  clasp,  full-handed, 
warm,  momentary,  just  shaken  enough  to  make  the  gentle 
grasp  well  felt  but  not  painful. 

The  etiquette  of  hand-shaking  is  simple.  A man  haa 
ao  right  to  take  a lady’s  hand  till  it  is  offered.  It  were  t 


HAND-SHAKING. 


82: 


robbery  whick  she  would  punish.  He  has  even  less  right 
to  pinch  or  to  retain  it.  Two  ladies  shake  hands  gently 
and  softly.  A young  lady  gives  her  hand,  but  does  not 
shake  a gentleman’s,  unless  she  is  his  friend.  A ladj 
should  always  rise  to  give  her  hand ; a gentleman,  ol 
course,  never  dares  do  so  seated.  On  introduction  in  a 
room,  a married  lady  generally  offers  her  hand,  a young 
lady  not;  in  a ball-room,  where  the  introduction  is  to 
dancing,  not  to  friendship,  you  never  shake  hands ; and 
as  a general  rule,  an  introduction  is  not  followed  by  shak- 
ing hands,  only  by  a bow.  It  may  perhaps  be  laid  down, 
that  the  more  public  the  place  of  introduction,  the  less 
hand-shaking  takes  place ; but  if  the  introduction  be  par- 
ticular, if  it  be  accompanied  by  personal  recommendation, 
such  as,  ^‘1  want  you  to  know  my  friend  Jones,”  or,  V 
Jones  comes  with  a letter  of  presentation,  then  you  give 
Tones  your  hand,  and  warmly  too.  Lastly,  it  is  the  priv- 
dege  of  a superior  to  offer  or  withhold  his  or  her  hand, 
BO  that  an  inferior  should  never  put  his  forward  first. 

There  are  other  modes  of  salutation,  which,  being  too 
familiar,  are  well  avoided,  such  as  clapping  a man  on  the 
shoulder,  digging  him  in  the  ribs,  and  so  forth.  The 
French  rarely  shake  hands,  and  only  with  intimate  fi^iends. 
They  then  give  the  left  hand,  because  that  is  nearer  the 
heart,  la  main  du  cceur.  The  most  cordial  way  of  shak- 
ing hands  is  to  give  both  at  once,  but  this  presupposes 
certain  or  uncertain  amount  of  affection. 

When  you  meet  a frieni  in  the  street,  it  must  depend 
on  the  amount  of  familiarity  whether  you  walk  with  him 
or  not,  but  with  a lady  you  must  not  walk  unless  invited 
either  verbally  or  tacitly  A young  and  single  man  should 


328 


THE  PROMENADE,  ETC. 


never  walk  with  a young  lady  in  public  places^  unless 
especially  asked  to  do  so.  How  Sybilla’s  words  tbrilled 
thrcugh  me,  when  she  said,  Mamma,  I am  going  tc 

walk  home  with  Mr. , if  you  have  no  objection.^’  ! 

fiad  not  proposed  it,  it  was  her  own  doing.  No  wonder 
I am  a bachelor  still,  and  she  the  Amy  in  Locksley  Hall  ♦ 
If  you  walk  with  a lady  alone  in  a large  town,  particu- 
larly in  London,  you  must  offer  her  your  arm ; elsewhere 
it  is  unnecessary,  and  even  marked. 

In  driving  with  ladies,  a man  must  take  the  back  seat 
of  the  carriage,  and  when  it  stops,  jump  out  first  and  offer 
his  hand  to  let  them  out.  In  your  own  carriage  you  al- 
ways give  the  front  seat  to  a visitor,  if  you  are  a man^ 
but  a lady  leaves  the  back  seat  for  a gentleman. 

In  railway  travelling  you  should  not  open  a conversa- 
tion with  a lady  unknown  to  you,  until  she  makes  some 
advance  towards  it.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  polite  to 
speak  to  a gentleman.  If,  however,  his  answers  be  curt^ 
and  he  evinces  a desire  to  be  quiet,  do  not  pursue  the 
conversation.  On  your  part,  if  addressed  in  a railway 
carriage,  you  should  always  reply  politely.  If  you  have 
a newspaper,  and  others  have  not,  you  should  offer  it  to 
the  person  nearest  to  you.  An  acquaintance  begun  on  a 
railway  may  sometimes  go  farther,  but,  as  a general  rule, 
it  terminates  when  one  of  the  parties  leaves  the  carriage. 
A Frenchman  always  takes  off  his  hat  in  a carriage  where 
there  are  ladies,  whether  a private  or  public  one.  This 
13  a politeness  which  really  well-bred  Englishmen  imitate. 
If  you  go  in  an  omnibus  (and  there  is  no  reason  why  e 
gentleman  should  not  do  so),  it  is  well  to  avoid  conver- 
sation, but  if  you  enter  into  it,  beware  of  inflammatory 


IN  PUBLIC  CONVEYANCES 


829 


subjects.  An  acquaintance  of  mine  once  talked  politics 
to  a radical  in  an  omnibus.  The  two  got  heated^  and 
more  heated,  and  my  acquaintance — for  he  was  no  fi  iend^ 
I assure  you — ended  by  driving  his  opponent’s  head 
through  the  window  of  the  vehicle.  It  w^as  agrteablo-"- 
— to  see  his  name  next  day  in  the  police  report. 


CHAPTER  X 


Ul  PRIVATE.  VISITS,  INTRODUCTIONS,  ETC. 

Phhre  are  many  great  men  who  go  unrewarded  for  the 
lervices  they  render  to  humanity.  Nay,  even  their  names 
are  lost,  while  w^e  daily  bless  their  inventions.  One  of 
these  is  he,  if  it  was  not  a lady,  who  introduced  the  use 
of  visiting  cards.  In  days  of  yore  a slate  or  a book  was 
kept,  and  you  wrote  your  name  on  it.  But  then  that 
oould  only  be  done  when  your  acquaintance  was  not  at 
home.’’  To  the  French  is  due  the  practice  of  making  the 
delivery  of  a card  serve  the  purpose  of  the  appearance  of 
the  individual,  and  with  those  who  have  a large  acquaint- 
ance this  custom  is  becoming  very  common  in  large  tovfns. 

The  visit  or  call  is,  however,  a much  better  institution 
than'  is  generally  supposed.  It  has  its  drawbacks.  It 
wastes  much  time ; it  necessitates  mucTi  small  talk.  It 
obliges  one  to  dress  on  the  chance  of  finding  a friend  at 
home ; but  for  all  this  it  is  almost  the  only  means  of 
making  an  acquaintance  ripen  into  a friendship.  In  the 
visit  all  the  strain,  which  general  society  somehow  neces- 
sitates, is  thrown  off.  A man  receives  you  in  his  room? 
cordially,  and  makes  you  welcome,  not  to  a stifi*  dinner^ 
but  an  easy-chair  and  conversation.  A lady,  who  in  the 
ball-room  or  party  has  been  compelled  to  limit  her  conver' 
sation,  can  here  speak  more  freely.  The  talk  can  descend 
from  generalities  to  personal  inquiries,  and  need  I say  that  il 


LETTERS  OF  INTRODUCTION. 


33J 


ycu  wish  to  know  a young  lady  truly,  you  must  see  hei 
at  home,  and  by  daylight. 

The  main  points  to  be  observed  about  visits  are  the  pro- 
per occasions  ani  the  proper  hours.  Now,  between  actual 
friends  there  is  little  need  of  etiquette  in  these  respects 
A friendly  visit  may  be  made  at  any  time,  on  any  occasion 
True,  you  are  more  welcome  when  the  business  of  the  day 
is  over,  in  the  afternoon  rather  than  the  morning,  and  you 
must,  even  as  a friend,  avoid  calling  at  meal-times.  But. 
on  the  other  hand,  many  people  receive  visits  in  the  eve- 
ning— another  French  custom — and  certainly  this  is  the 
best  time  to  make  them. 

As  however,  during  the  season,  you  have  but  a slight 
chance  of  finding  your  friends  at  home  in  the  evening, 
another  custom  has  been  imported  from  France  into  the 
best  circles  of  English  society,  that,  namely,  of  fixing  a 
day  in  the  week  on  which  to  receive  evening  visitors  with- 
out the  ceremony  of  a party.  The  visit  may  then  last 
from  one  to  two  hours,  and  be  made  either  in  morning  or 
evening  dress,  the  latter  being  the  better.  However,  this 
custom  is  not  yet  a common  one,  but  I beg  to  recommend 
it  to  those  who  wdsh  to  have  friends  as  well  as  mere  ac- 
quaintance. 

The  principal  class  of  visits,  then,  is  those  of  ceremony. 
The  occasions  for  these  are — with  letters  of  introduction, 
after  certain  parties,  and  to  condole  or  congratulate. 

In  the  first  case,  letters  aie  rarely  if  ever  given  to  per- 
3ons  in  Town.  The  residence  in  town  is  presumed  to  be 
transitory,  and  letters  of  introduction  are  only  addressed 
to  permanent  residents.  On  the  other  hand,  they  are  ne- 
cessary in  the  country,  particularly  when  a family  take  up 
their  residence  in  a district,  and  wish  to  enter  the  best 


S82 


VISITS,  INTRODUCTIONS,  ETC. 


society  of  the  place.  In  this  last  case  the  inhabitaiits  al 
ways  call  first  on  the  new-comer,  unless  he  brings  a lettei 
of  introduction,  when  he  is  the  first  to  call,  but  instead 
of  going  in,  leaves  it  with  a card  or  cards,  and  waits  till 
this  formal  visit  is  returned.  In  returning  a visit  made 
with  a letter  it  is  necessary  to  go  in  if  the  family  is  ai 
home.  A letter  of  introduction,’’  says  La  Fontaine,  ' ie 
a draft  at  sight,  and  you  must  cash  it.”  In  large  towns 
there  is  no  such  custom.  It  would  be  impossible  for  the 
residents  to  call  on  every  new  comer,  and  half  of  the  new 
arrivals  might  be  people  whose  acquaintance  they  would 
not  wish  to  improve.  If  however,  you  take  a letter  of 
introduction  with  any  special  object,  whether  of  business 
or  of  a private  or  particular  character,  you  are  right  to 
send  in  the  letter  with  your  card,  and  ask  for  admission 
Such  letters  should  only  be  given  by  actual  friends  of  the 
persons  addressed,  and  to  actual  friends  of  their  own. 
Never,  if  you  are  wise,  give  a letter  to  a person  whom 
you  do  not  know,  nor  address  one  to  one  whom  you  know 
slightly.  The  letter  of  introduction,  if  actually  given  to 
fts  bearer,  should  be  left  open,  that  he  may  not  incur  the  fate 
of  the  Persian  messenger,  who  brought  tablets  of  intro- 
duction recommending  the  new  acquaintance  to  cut  his 
head  off.  A letter  of  this  kind  must  therefore  be  carefully 
worded  stating  in  full  the  name  of  the  person  introduced, 
but  with  as  few  remarks  about  him  as  possible.  It  is  gen- 
erally sufficient  to  say  that  he  is  a friend  of  yours,  whom 
you  trust  your  other  friend  will  receive  with  attention,  &c 
In  travelling  it  is  well  to  have  as  many  letters  as  possible 
but  not  to  pin  your  faith  on  them.  In  foreign  towns  it  is 
the  custom  for  the  new  comer  to  call  on  the  residents  first 
just  the  reverse  of  ours. 


VISITS  OF  CEREMONY. 


38E 

Ceremonial  visits  must  be  made  the  day  after  a ball 
when  it  will  suffice  to  leave  a card ; within  a day  or  tw<5 
after  a dinner  party,  wffien  you  ought  to  make  the  visii 
pei'sonally,  unless  the  dinner  was  a semi-official  one,  such 
^ the  Lord  Mayor’s ; and  within  a week  of  a small  party, 
when  the  call  should  certainly  be  made  in  person.  All 
these  visits  should  be  short,  lasting  from  twenty  minutes 
to  half-an-hour  at  the  most.  There  is  one  species  of  ^‘borc’’ 
more  detestable  than  any  other — the  man,  namely,  who 
comes  and  sits  in  your  drawing-room  for  an  hour  or  two. 
preventing  you  from  going  out  to  make  your  own  calls,  or 
interrupting  the  calls  of  others.  It  is  proper  when  you 
have  been  some  time  at  a visit,  and  another  caller  is  an- 
nounced, to  rise  and  leave,  not  indeed  immediately,  as  if 
you  shunned  the  new  arrival,  but  after  a moment  or  tw^o 
In  other  cases,  when  you  doubt  wffien  to  take  your  leave, 
you  must  not  look  at  your  watch,  but  wait  till  there  is  a 
lull  in  the  conversation. 

Visits  of  condolence  and  congratulation  must  be  made 
about  a week  after  the  event.  If  you  are  intimate  with 
the  person  on  whom  you  call,  you  may  ask  in  the  first 
case  for  admission  ; if  not,  it  is  better  only  to  leave  a card 
and  make  your  kind  inquiries”  of  the  servant,  who  m 
generally  primed  in  what  manner  to  answer  them.  In 
visits  of  congratulation  you  should  always  go  in,  and  be 
hearty  in  your  congratulations.  Visits  of  condolence  are 
terrible  inflictions  to  both  receiver  and  giver,  but  they 
may  be  made  less  so  by  avoiding,  as  much  as  consistent 
with  sympathy,  any  allusion  to  the  past.  The  receivei 
does  well  to  abstain  from  tears.  A lady  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, who  had  lost  her  husband,  was  receiving  such  a visit 
in  her  best  crape.  She  wept  profusely  for  ^ome  time  upon 


834  VISITS.  INTRODUCTION,  ETC. 

the  best  of  broad-hemmed  cambric  handkerchiefs,  and  theii 
turning  to  her  visitor  said  : I am  sure  you  will  be  glad 

to  hear  that  Mr.  B has  left  me  most  comfortably  pio- 

^ided  for.  ^^Hmc  illcb  lacrymcB.  Perhaps  they  wouT 
have  been  more  sincere  if  he  had  left  her  without  a penny 
At  the  same  time,  if  you  have  not  sympathy  and  heart 
enough  to  pump  up  a little  condolence,  you  will  do  better 
to  avoid  it,  but  take  care  that  your  conversation  is  not  too 
gay.  Whatever  you  may  feel,  you  must  respect  the  sor- 
rows of  others. 

On  marriage,  cards  are  sent  round  to  such  people  as 
you  wish  to  keep  among  your  acquaintance,  and  it  is  then 
their  part  to  call  first  on  the  young  couple,  when  within 
distance. 

I now  come  to  a few  hints  about  calling  in  general ; and 
first  as  to  the  time  thereof.  In  London,  the  limits  of  call- 
ing hours  are  fixed,  namely,  from  three  to  six,  but  in  the 
country  people  are  sometimes  odious  enough  to  call  in  the 
morning  before  lunch.  This  should  not  be  done  even  by 
intimate  friends.  Everybody  has,  or  ought  to  have,  his 
or  her  proper  occupation  in  the  morning,  and  a caller  will 
then  sometimes  find  the  lady  of  the  house  unprepared.  It 
is  necessary  before  calling  to  ascertain  the  hours  at  which 
your  friends  lunch  and  dine,  and  not  to  call  at  these.'  A 
ceremonial  call  from  a slight  acquaintance  ought  to  be  re 
turned  the  next  day,  or  at  longest  within  three  days,  unless 
the  distance  be  great.  In  the  same  way,  if  a strangei 
comes  to  stay  at  the  house  of  a friend,  in  the  country,  or 
in  small  country  towns,  every  residenc  ought  to  call  oii 
him  or  her,  even  if  she  be  a young  lady,  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible after  the  arrival.  These  calls  should  be  made  in  per- 
son, and  returned  the  next  day. 


LEAVING  CARDS. 


385 


The  card  is  the  next  point.  It  should  be  perfeotlv 
simple  A lady’s  card  is  larger  than  a gentleman’s.  Tho 
formei  may  be  glazed,  the  latter  not.  The  name,  ^ith  a 
simple  ^^Mr.”  or  ^^Mrs.”  before  it  is  sufficient,  except  iti 
the  case  of  acknowledged  rank,  as  ‘‘The  Earl  of  Ducie/ 
Colonel  Marjoribanks,”  The  Hon.  Mrs.  Petre,”  an 
BO  forth.  All  merely  honorary  titles  or  designations  of 
position  or  office  should  be  left  out,  except  in  cards  des 
tilled  for  purely  official  visits.  Thus  our  ambassador  at 
Paris  returns  official  visits  with  a card  thus : L’ Ambas- 
sadeur  de  Sa  Majeste  Britannique,”  but  those  of  acquaint- 
ance with  Lord  Cowley”  simply.  The  address  may  bo 
put  in  the  corner  of  the  card.  The  engraving  should  be 
in  simple  Italian  writing,  not  Gothic  or  Homan  letters, 
very  small  and  without  any  flourishes.  Young  men  have 
adopted  recently  the  foreign  custom  of  having  their  Chris- 
tian and  surname  printed  without  the  ‘‘Mr.”  A young 
lady  does  not  require  a separate  card  as  long  as  she  is  liv- 
ing with  her  mother;  her  name  is  then  engraved  under 
her  mother’s,  as  : — 

Mrs.  Jones  Brownsmith. 

Miss  Jones  Brownsmith. 

Or  if  there  be  more  than  one  daughter  presented,  thus  :~ 
Mrs.  Jones  Brownsmith. 

The  Miss  Jones  Brozvnsmiths. 

Which  latter  form  can  be  defended  as  more  idiomatic,  if 
less  grammatical,  than  “ The  Misses  Jones  Brownsmith 
but  it  is  a matter  of  little  importance.  I cannot  enter  here 
on  a grammatical  discussion,  and  the  one  form  is  as  com- 
mon as  the  other. 

You  will  find  a small  card-case  neater  and  more  oonven- 


880 


VISITS.  INTRODUCTIONS,  BTC. 


ient  than  a pocket  biok  ; and  in  leaving  cards  yju  musi 
thus  distribute  them : one  for  the  lady  of  the  house  and 
lier  daughters — the  latter  are  sometimes  represented  by 
turning  up  the  edge  of  the  card — one  for  the  master  cf 
llie  house  and  if  there  be  a grown  up  son  or  near  male  ro 
htion  staying  in  the  house,  one  for  him.  But  though 
cards  are  cheap,  you  must  never  leave  more  than  three  ai 
a time  at  the  same  house.  As  married  men  have,  or  are 
supposed  to  have,  too  much  to  do  to  make  ceremonial  calls, 
it  is  the  custom  for  a wife  to  take  her  husband’s  cards  with 
her,  and  to  leave  one  or  two  of  them  with  her  own.  If, 
on  your  inquiring  for  the  lady  of  the  house,  the  servant 
replies,  Mrs.  So-and-so  is  not  at  home,  but  Miss  So-and- 
so  is,’’  you  should  leave  a card,  because  young  ladies  do 
not  receive  calls  from  gentlemen,  unless  they  are  very  in- 
timate with  them,  or  have  passed  the  rubicon  of  thirty 
summers.  It  must  be  remembered,  too,  that  where  there 
is  a lady  of  the  house,  your  call  is  lo  her,  not  to  her  hus- 
band, except  on  business. 

The  Roman  Assembly  used  to  break  up  if  thunder  was 
heard,  and  in  days  of  yore  a family  assembly  was  often 
broken  up  very  hurriedly  at  the  thunder  of  the  knocker, 
one  or  other  of  the  daughters  exclaiming,  I am  not 
dressed,  mamma  !”  and  darting  from  the  loom  ; but  ladies 
ought  to  be  dressed  sufficiently  to  receive  visitors  in  the 
afternoon.  As  nerves  have  grown  more  delicate  of  lute 
^ears,  it  is  perhaps  a blessing  that  knockers  have  been 
superseded  by  bells.  Where  they  remain,  however,  you 
should  not  rattle  them  fiercely,  as  a powdered  Mercury 
does,  nor  should  you  pull  a bell  ferociously. 

Having  entered  the  house,  you  take  up  with  you  to  the 
drawing-room  both  hat  and  cane,  but  leave  an  umbrella  in 


COUNTRY-VISITIt^G. 


337 


the  hall.  In  France  it  is  usual  to  leave  a great- coat  iowa 
stairs  also,  but  as  calls  are  made  in  this  country  in  morn- 
ing dress,  it  is  not  necessary  to  do  so. 

It  is  not  usual  to  introduce  people  at  morning  calls  if 
large  towns ; in  the  country  it  is  sometimes  done,  not  al 
ways  The  law  of  introductions  is,  in  fact,  to  force  nl 
one  into  an  acquaintance.  You  should  therefore  ascertain 
beforehand  whether  it  is  agreeable  to  both  to  be  introduced 
but  if  a lady  or  a superior  expresses  a wish  to  know  a gen- 
tleman or  an  inferior,  the  latter  two  have  no  right  to  de- 
cline the  honor.  The  introduction  is  of  an  inferior  liicli 
position  a gentleman  always  holds  to  a lady)  to  the  supe- 
rior. You  introduce  Mr.  Smith  to  Mrs.  Jones,  or  Mr.  A. 
to  Lord  B.,  not  vice  versa.  In  introducing  two  persons, 
it  is  not  necessary  to  lead  one  of  them  up  by  the  hand,  bu^ 
it  is  suflSoient  simply  to  precede  them.  Having  thus 
brought  the  person  to  be  introduced  up  to  the  one  to  whom 
he  is  to  be  presented,  it  is  the  custom,  even  when  the  con- 
sent has  been  previously  obtained,  to  say,  with  a slight  bow 
to  the  superior  personage  : Will  you  allow  me  to  intro- 
duce Mr. — The  person  addressed  replies  by  bowing 
to  the  one  introduced,  who  also  bows  at  the  same  time, 
while  the  introducer  repeats  their  names,  and  then  retires, 
eaving  them  to  converse.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  present- 
ing Mr.  Jones  to  Mrs.  Smith,  you  will  say,  Mrs.  Smith, 
albw  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Jones.”  and  while  they  are  en* 
gaged  in  bowing,  you  will  murmur,  Mrs.  Smith — Mr 
Tones,”  and  escape.  If  you  have  to  present  three  or  foui 
peopb  to  said  Mrs.  Smith,  it  will  suffice  to  utter  their  re- 
spective names  without  repeating  that  of  the  lady. 

A well-bred  person  always  receives  visitors  at  whatevei 
time  they  may  call,  or  whoever  they  may  be ; but  if  you 
15 


838 


VISITS,  INTRODUCTIONS,  ETC. 


are  occupied  and  cannot  afford  to  be  interrupted  by  a mere 
ceremony,  you  should  instruct  the  servant  befoi  ehand  to 
S-ay  that  you  are  ‘^not  at  home.”  This  foim  has  often 
been  denounced  as  a falsehood,  but  a lie  is  no  lie  unlesa 
intended  to  deceive  ; and  since  the  words  are  universally 
understood  to  mean  that  you  are  engaged,  it  can  be  no 
barm  to  give  such  an  order  to  a servant.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  if  the  servant  once  admits  a visitor  within  the 
hall,  you  should  receive  him  at  any  inconvenience  to  your 
self.  A lady  should  never  keep  a visitor  waiting  more 
than  a minute  or  two  at  the  most,  and  if  she  cannot  avoid 
doing  so,  must  apologize  on  entering  the  drawing-room. 

In  good  society,  a visitor,  unless  he  is  a complete  stran- 
ger, does  not  wait  to  be  invited  to  sit  down,  but  takes  a 
seat  at  once  easily.  A gentleman  should  never  take  the 
principal  place  in  the  room,  nor,  oirthe  other  hand,  sit  ai 
an  inconvenient  distance  from  the  lady  of  the  house.  IB 
must  hold  his  hat  gracefully,  not  put  it  on  a chair  or  table, 
or,  if  he  wants  to  use  both  hands,  must  place  it  on  the 
floor  close  to  his  chair.  A well-bred  lady,  who  is  receiv- 
ing two  or  three  visitors  at  a time,  pays  equal  attention  to 
all,  and  attempts,  as  much  as  possible,  to  generalize  th^ 
conversation,  turning  to  all  in  succession.  The  last  arrival 
however,  receives  a little  more  attention  at  first  than  the 
others,  and  the  latter,  to  spare  her  embarrassment,  should 
leave  as  soon  as  convenient.  People  who  out-sit  two  or  three 
parties  of  visitors,  unless  they  have  some  particular  motive 
Fci  doing  so,  come  under  the  denomination  of  “ bores.”  A 
bore”  is  a person  who  does  not  know  when  you  have  had 
enough  of  his  or  her  company.  Lastly,  a lady  never  calls 
on  a gentleman,  unless  professionally  or  officially.  It  is  no^ 
only  ill-bred,  but  positively  improper  to  do  so  At  the  same 


COUNTRY- VISITING. 


889 


time,  tnere  is  a certain  privilege  in  age,  \\nich  niakes  it 
possible  for  an  old  bachelor  like  myself  to  receive  a visit 
from  any  married  lady  whom  I know  very  intimately,  but 
Buch  a call  would  certainly  not  be  one  of  ceremony,  an-1 
ilways  presupposes  a desire  to  consult  me  on  some  poin! 
)r  other.  I should  be  guilty  of  shameful  treacheiy.  how- 
ever, if  I told  any  one  that  I had  received  such  a visit, 
while  I should  certainly  expect  that  my  fair  caller  W'ould 
let  her  husband  know  of  it. 

A few  words  on  visits  to  country  houses  before  I quit 
this  subject.  Since  an  Englishman’s  house  is  his  castle, 
no  one,  not  even  a near  relation,  has  a right  to  invite  him- 
self to  stay  in  it.  It  is  not  only  taking  a liberty  to  do  so, 
but  may  prove  to  be  very  inconvenient.  A general  invi- 
tation, too,  should  never  be  acted  on.  It  is  often  given 
without  any  intention  of  following  it  up  ; but,  if  given, 
should  be  turned  into  a special  one  sooner  or  later.  An 
invitation  should  specify  the  persons  whom  it  includes,  and 
the  person  invited  should  never  presume  to  take  with  him 
any  one  not  specified.  If  a gentleman  cannot  dispense 
with  his  valet,  or  a lady  with  her  maid,  they  should  write 
to  ask  leave  to  bring  a servant ; but  the  means  of  your 
inviter,  and  the  size  of  the  house,  should  be  taken  into 
consideration,  and  it  is  better  taste  to  dispense  with  a 
servant  altogether.  Children  and  horses  are  still  more 
troublesome,  and  should  never  be  taken  without  special 
mention  made  of  them.  It  is  equally  bad  taste  to  arrive 
with  a waggonful  of  luggage,  as  that  is  naturally  taken  as 
a hint  that  you  intend  to  stay  a long  time.  The  length  of 
% country  visit  is  indeed  a difficult  matter  to  decide,  but  in 
the  present  day  people  who  receive  much  generally  specify 
the  length  in  their  invitation — a plan  which  saves  a great 


340 


VISITS  INTRODUCTIONS,  ETC. 


deal  of  trouble  and  doubt.  But  a custom  not  so  commett 
dable  has  lately  come  in  of  limiting  the  visits  of  acquaint- 
ance to  two  or  three  days.  This  may  be  pardonable  where 
tl\e  guest  lives  at  no  great  distance,  but  it  is  preposterou 
to  expect  a person  to  travel  from  London  to  Aberdeen  for 
ft  stay  of  three  nights.  If,  however,  the  length  be  no 
specified,  and  cannot  easily  be  discovered,  a week  is  the 
limit  for  a country  visit,  except  at  the  house  of  a near  re- 
lation or  very  old  friend.  It  will,  however,  save  trouble 
to  yourself,  if,  soon  after  your  arrival,  you  state  that  yoi 
are  come  ‘‘  for  a few  days,’’  and,  if  your  host  wishes  you 
to  make  a longer  visit,  he  will  at  once  press  you  to  do  so. 

The  main  point  in  a country  visit  is  to  give  as  little 
trouble  as  possible,  to  conform  to  the  habits  of  your  en- 
tertainers, and  never  to  be  in  the  way.  On  this  principle 
you  will  retire  to  your  own  occupations  soon  after  break- 
fast, unless  some  arrangement  has  been  made  for  passing 
the  morning  otherwise.  If  you  have  nothing  to  do,  you 
may  be  sure  that  your  host  has  something  to  attend  to  in 
the  morning.  Another  point  of  good-breeding  is  to  be 
punctual  at  meals,  for  a host  and  hostess  never  sit  down 
without  their  guest,  and  dinner  may  be  getting  cold.  If, 
however,  a guest  should  fail  in  this  particular,  a well-bred 
entertainer  will  not  only  take  no  notice  of  it,  but  attempt 
to  set  the  late  comer  as  much  at  his  ease  as  possible.  A 
host  should  provide  amusement  for  his  guests,  and  give  up 
his  time  as  much  as  possible  to  them  ; but  if  he  should  b 
a professional  man  or  student — an  author,  for  instance— 
the  guest  should,  at  the  commencement  of  the  visit,  insist 
that  he  will  not  allow  him  ^o  interrupt  his  occupations,  and 
the  latter  will  set  his  visitor  more  at  his  ease  by  accepting 
this  arrangement.  In  fact,  ^he  rule  on  which  a host 


(dIRATCITIES  to  servants. 


311 


ihould  act  is  to  make  his  visitors  as  much  at  home  as  po3 
sible  ; that  on  which  a visitor  should  act,  is  to  inte  rfere 
Uule  as  possible  with  the  domestic  routine  of  the  house. 

The  worst  part  of  a country  visit  is  the  necessity  of 
gi  t?ing  gratuities  to  the  servants,  for  a poor  man  may  often 
find  his  visit  cost  him  far  more  than  if  he  had  stayed  a 
home.  It  is  a custom  which  ought  to  be  put  down  be- 
cause a host  who  receives  much  should  pay  his  own  ser- 
vants for  the  extra  trouble  given.  Some  people  have  made 
by-laws  against  it  in  their  houses,  but,  like  those  about 
gratuities  to  railway-porters,  they  are  seldom  regarded. 
In  a great  house  a man-servant  expects  gold,  but  a poor 
man  should  not  be  ashamed  of  offering  him  silver.  It 
must  depend  on  the  length  of  the  visit.  The  ladies  give 
to  the  female,  the  gentlemen  to  the  male  servants.  Would 
that  I might  see  my  friends  without  paying  them  for  ikmi 
bc8Ditality  in  this  indirect  manner. 


PART  111 


fflE  INDIVIDUAL  IN  CCMPAN! 


CHAPTER  XI. 

DINNERS,  DINERS,  AND  DINNER-PARTIES. 

^ Board  cried  a friend  of  mine  one  morning  after  8 
heavy  dinner-party ; “ It  ought  to  be  spelt  ‘ bored.’  Never 
was  a more  solemn  torture  created  for  mankind  than  these 
odious  dinner-parties.  Call  it  society  ! so  you  might  call 
the  Inquisition ; and  I really  have  my  doubts  whether  I 
should  not  be  as  happy  between  a couple  of  jailers,  insert- 
ing another  and  another  wedge  into  the  terrible  boot,  as 
between  that  garrulous  old  woman,  who  never  waited  foj 
an  answer,  and  that  nervous  young  lady  who  never  gave 
one,  with  a huge  tpergne  between  me  and  the  rest  of  my 
fellow-creatures,  an  occasional  glimpse  of  an  irritable, 
solemn  host  at  one  end,  and  a most  anxious  hostess  at  the 
other.  Upon  my  word,  two  whole  hours  of  this,  with  the 
most  labored  attempts  at  conversation  all  round,  in  a darl 
room  with  a servant  perpetually  thrusting  something  across 
ray  shoulder,  exciting  each  time  a fresh  alarm  of  a shower 
of  sauce  or  gravy:  stupidity  worked  up  to  silliness  by  bad 

(Si2) 


THE  MORALITY  OF  DINNER-PARTIES. 


3ia 


champagne  and  worse  port,  and,  when  every  one  is  wearied 
10  death  a white-mouse  ditty  from  the  shy  young  lady 
and  another  hour  and  a half  of  that  frantically  garrulous 
old  one — really  is  this  society 

Perhaps  not ; but  that  is  no  reason  why  a dinner-party, 
pioperly  selected  and  properly  served,  should  not  be  as 
pleasant  a meeting  as  any  other.  Indeed  in  England  it 
ought  to  be  pleasanter.  The  English  are  not  famous  for 
conversation ; but  it  has  been  proved,  that  if  you  want 
them  to  talk,  you  must  put  something  substantial  into  their 
moutliS.  One  thing  is  certain,  namely,  that  a dinner-party 
xS  the  main  institution  of  society  in  this  country,  and  one 
which  every  class  and  every  denomination  recognises  and 
permi  ts.  Many  people  denounce  balls  as  wicked,  and  con- 
sider evening  parties  frivolous,  but  none  see  any  harm  in 
being  vfell  fed,  and  made  to  drink  a certain  or  uncertain 
quantity  of  wine.  It  certainly  has  often  surprised  me, 
that  at  the  very  time  when  we  are  appealing  to  men  of 
all  positions  and  all  fortunes  for  subscriptions  to  relieve 
the  destitute  poor — when  starving  brethren  are  crawling 
in  their  filthy  rags  along  the  crowded  pavement — when  the 
homeless  are  crouching  on  our  door-steps,  and  perishing  of 
hunger  but  a few  streets  off,  the  noble  philanthropist  who 
presides  at  a meeting  foi  ^heir  relief,  and  the  bishop  who 
calls  for  charity  for  them  from  the  pulpit,  should  see  no 
harm  in  encouraging,  by  their  presence,  the  prodigality 
and  Sybarite  luxury  of  professional  dinner-givers  (fi.  r 
they  make  it  almost  a profession).  It  is  certainly  strange, 
that  while  Scripture  is  ransacked  for  texts  inculcating 
almsgiving  and  the  duty  of  feeding  the  hungry,  those 
words  of  Solomon,  wnich  denounce  the  man  who  gives  to 
^e  rich,  should  be  so  completely  overlooked.  It  is  re 


S44  DINNERS,  DINERS  AND  DINNER-PARTIES. 

Diarkable  that  the  man  who  can  vfith  difficult}^  be  brougLj 
to  give  a ten-pound  note  to  keep  a hundred  souls  alive, 
should j of  his  own  free-will,  spend  twice  the  sum  once  ^ 
week  in  feasting  with  dainties  some  dozen  of  his  fellow- 
SJ  eatures,  who  can  scarcely  get  up  the  requisite  amount 
of  appetite  to  enjoy  them.  But,  after  all,  it  is  not  so 
stiange,  for  men  are  selfish,  and  the  good-will  of  a few 
rich  is  more  highly  prized  than  the  gratitude  of  many 
poor. 

But  let  this  pass,  and  let  us  console  ourselves  by  the 
reflection  that  common  sense,  if  no  higher  feeling,  will  in 
time  simplify  oar  social  banquets  ; and  that  charity,  some 
fifty  years  hence,  will  see  no  liarm^  as  it  now  would,  ir 
calling  in  the  blind,  the  halt,  and  the  needy,  to  partake 
of  the  dishes  we  now  spread  only  for  the  rich,  the  fash- 
ionable, and  the  appetiteless.  One  rule,  however,  we  may 
gain  at  once  from  these  considerations,  that  only  the 
wealthy  should  be  dinner-givers,  and  the  man  who  cannot 
afford’’  £5  for  the  starving,  should  on  no  account  af- 
ford £20  for  the  well  fed. 

A dinner,  like  a pun,  should  never  be  made  public  un- 
less it  be  very  good,  but  at  the  same  time  modern  im- 
provements enable  it  to  be  that  without  being  also  very 
i^xpensive.  The  goodness  of  a dinner  does  not  consist  in 
the  rarity  and  costliness  of  the  viands  but  in  the  manner 
in  which  they  are  cooked  and  served,  in  the  various  con 
eornitants  which  contribute  to  give  it  brilliance  and  ele- 
gance, and  yet  more  in  the  guests  who  eat  it. 

This  last  point  is,  in  fact,  the  mest  important,  so  tlial 
the  invitation  is  only  a second  consideration  to  the  dinner 
itself  The  rules  for  invitations,  and  some  hints  whom 
to  invi'c  are  given  in  the  next  chapter  by  my  colleague 


WHOM  TO  INVITE. 


346 


I need  give  but  a few  hints  of  my  own.  People  who  have- 
a large  acquaintance  and  give  dinners,  should  keep  a 
book  in  which  to  write  the  names  of  those  who  compofiic- 
each  party,  which  prevents  the  mistake  of  asking  the  same 
person  twice,  and  of  bringing  precisely  the  same  people 
together  again  when  their  turn  comes  round.  There  are 
indeed  some  privileged  persons  like  myself,  agreeable  old 
bachelors,  who,  being  free  from  encumbrance  and  full  ol 
talk,  are  always  w^elcome  and  generally  wanted.  In  fact, 
such  men  run  a risk  of  being  known  as  professional  diners 
out,  like  the  convivcB  of  Rome,  so  that  it  is  a greatei 
charity  not  to  invite  them  too  often.  And  this  reminds 
me  that  you  should  not  ask  a man  ^vithout  his  wufe, 
though  you  may  leave  his  sons  and  daughters  out  of  the 
calculation.  Then,  again,  the  very  ancient  had  better  be 
left  to  dine  at  home,  unless,  like  Lady  Morgan,  they 
preserve  their  conversational  powers.  The  invitation  must 
be  answ^ered  as  soon  as  possible,  and  the  answer  addressed 
to  the  lady  of  the  house. 

But  the  question  whom  to  invite,  is  one  which  cannot 
be  so  easily  answered.  First,  there  are  some  people 
w^hom  you  rmist  invite  sooner  or  later,  namely,  those  at 
whose  houses  you  have  dined  ; because  you  may  neglect 
every  Christian  duty,  and  be  less  blamed  than  if  you  omit 
this  social  one.  This  is  certainly  absurd,  and  society  be- 
'omes  almost  loio  when  dinner-parties  take  the  semblance 
f a tacit  contract,  in  which  the  one  party  undertakes  to 
feed  the  other  to-day,  if  the  other  will  feed  him  in  roturt 
before  the  end  of  the  season.  Yet  I have  knowm  poopde 
not  at  all  ashamed  to  complain  that  they  have  not  been 
asked  to  iinner,  and  not  blush  to  say,  They  owe,  us  a 
iinner,  you  know.’’  Somehow,  then,  you  must  manag# 
15* 


54{^  DINNERS,  DINERS,  AND  DINNER-PART.  ES 

to  acquit  yourself  of  these  dinner  debts  before  the  season 
is  over.  Society  condemns  you  severely  if  you  do  not 
pay  your  debts  of  hospitality.  Of  course  this  applies 
only  to  people  who  are  known  to  be  in  the  habit  of  givh^^ 
dinners.  Those  who  from  one  cause  or  another  do  nci  b 
m are  still  invited,  though  not  so  often. 

But  when  you  have  done  your  duty  religiously  in  this 
respect,  you  have  the  world  before  you.  Where  to 
choose  ? Now,  after  taking  into  due  consideration  the 
congruities  and  sympathies  of  those  you  may  select,  the 
^rsfiief  point  is  to  invite  men  and  women — an  equal  number 
of  each  of  course — who  can  talk.  By  this  I do  not  mean 
four  rapid  utterers  of  small-talk,  who  can  coin  more 
pretty  nonsense  in  half  an  hour  than  a modern  novelist  in 
^hree  months,  but  men,  who  having  gone  through  the 
iforM,  and  tamed  their  Pegasus  with  the  curb  of  experi- 
•ence,  not  being  bound,  Mazeppa-like,  on  the  back  of  some 
wretched  hobby,  c;in  gallop  smoothly  over  the  themes 
xhat  life  and  the  newspapers  supply  to  wit ; men  who 
fiew  life  calmly  from  the  height  to  which  they  have 
climbed,  without  prejudice  and  without  awe  ; and  women 
who  are  capable  of  understanding  and  answering  such  men 
as  these.  But  you  must  carefully  avoid  the  eate?',  b} 
which  I mean  both  the  gourmand  and  the  gourmet^  both 
the  alderma:  whose  motto  is  quantity,  and  the  epicure 
who  cries  for  quality.  Of  what  good  is  it  to  pander  to 
the  greediness  of  a vile  being,  whose  soul  lies  in  the 
stomach,  as  the  Greeks  affirmed  that  it  always  did,  and 
vhose  mind  and  thoughts  are  much  in  the  same  rerion. 
If  such  men  can  talk  at  all,  it  is  only  of  eating,  and  ii 
you  do  not  feed  them  wdth  the  especial  dainties  they  look 
for,  their  gratitude  shows  itself  in  sneers  at  your  hospi^ 


WHOM  TO  INVITE. 


S41 

tsiiity  when  they  next  dine  out.  Wits,  again,  ani  met 
who  think  themselves  to  be  so,  should  never  be  askec 
singly,  for  they  will  engross  the  conversation,  and  sileiwe 
the  rest.  When  asked  in  numbers,  they  keep  one  anotli(  j 
ifithin  limits. 

The  number  of  the  guests  is  a difficulty.  People  find 
ibat  it  is  more  economical  to  give  large  than  small  din* 
ners,  and  will  therefore  continue  to  go  on  in  solemn  gran- 
deur. But  the  best  dinners  are  those  at  which  all  t 
guests  can  join  in  a common  conversation,  to  which  tL^ 
host  being  within  hearing  of  all  his  party  can  give  th, 
proper  lead.  Such  dinners  alone  can  be  agreeable  to  ali^ 
because  no  one  is  dependent  on  the  liveliness  of  his  or  her 
nearest  neighbor  for  conversation.  As  it  is,  too  many 
dinner  is  nothing  better  than  an  eating  quadrille,  where 
each  person  has  a partner  and  is  at  his  mercy ; only  that 
the  dance  lasts  not  an  eighth  of  the  time  which  the  leashed 
diner  is  compelled  to  pass  in  company  with  his  partner. 
Brillat  Savarin  says,  that  no  dinner  should  have  more 
than  twelve  guests,  and  the  old  rule  was,  neither  less 
than  the  graces,  nor  more  than  the  muses;”  but  London 
dinners  oftener  exceed  these  limits  than  the  reverse,  while 
country  dinners  mount  up  to  twenty.  Indeed,  mih  some 
senseless  people,  the  eclai  of  the  dinner  seems  to  consist 
in  the  number  of  the  guests,  and  the  more  you  can  feed 
the  more  your  glory.  I am  inclined  to  think  that  the 
rule  is  the  best ; but  as  it  was  made  for  tables  at 
j^rhich  la  lies  n^^ver  appeared,  some  alteration  must  be 
made  in  it,  and  we  may  say  generally,  that  an  even  num- 
ber is  better  than  an  odd  one,  and  that  it  should  be  either 
six,  eight,  or  ten.  The  first  of  course  is  reserved  for 
jrour  dinners  of  honor,  when  the  men  you  admire  and  th€ 


3*18  DINNERS,  DINERS,  AND  DINNER-PARTIES. 

women  you  love — (two  of  each,  for  no  man  can  find  morj 
than  tliat  number  in  the  world) — dine  with  you  and  youi 
i^ife ; the  second  is  your  sociable  dinner,  at  which  ail  the 
guests  are  more  or  less  known  to  one  another ; and  the 
third  is  your  company  dinner.  If  you  exceed  these  nuin* 
bers,  you  may  do  what  you  will  to  make  your  dinnei 
perfect,  your  guests  will  spoil  it  all  by  falling  into  coup- 
les and  eating  in  quadrille. 

But  there  is  another  reason  for  limiting  the  number, 
namely,  that  to  give  a good  dinner,  your  means,  your  es- 
tablishment, your  dining-room,  the  capacities  of  the  table, 
and  so  forth,  must  all  be  taken  into  consideration.  But 
if  the  dinner  is  given  to  fourteen,  sixteen,  or  even  eigh- 
teen as  is  now  common  in  large  towns,  you  must  either 
increase  your  establishment  and  your  expense  not  a little, 
ir  be  content,  as  people  are,  to  give  them  the  regular 

feed,’’  in  Avhich  everybody  knows  beforehand  what  they 
will  have.  One  cook,  for  instance,  cannot  serve  up  pro- 
perly  for  more  than  a dozen  people ; three  men  cannot 
wait  properly  on  more  than  ten  ; and  a table  which  will 
hold  more  than  that  number  will  be  so  large  as  to  sepa* 
rate  the  opposite  guests  too  far  for  easy  and  general  con- 
versation. Lastly,  if  your  means  enable  you  to  dine  a 
hun  lred  or  a thousand  every  week,  you  would  be  a mad- 
man to  do  so ; you  might  as  well  give  your  dinner  to  two 
only,  for  what  of  that  essential  harmony,  that  communion 
)f  mind  and  spirit,  the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of 
>oul,”  can  there  possibly  be  bet^veen  a hundred,  nay,  even 
seventy  people,  some  of  them  so  far  from  one  another  that 
they  could  scarcely  be  heard  without  a speaking-trumpet? 

Having  well  selected  your  guests,  you  consider  in  w^hal 
room  to  dine  them,  for  the  regular  dining-rocm  is  no* 


THE  DININH-EOOM. 


849 


always  the  most  comfortable.  If  the  party  be  imall — sis 
or  eight — a large  dining-room  will  look  very  ghastly,  and 
it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  dinner-givers  of  good 
taste  study  comfort  more  than  grandeur,  which  latter  i 
simply  vulgar  whether  in  the  house  of  a duke  or  a haber 
dasher.  The  furniture  of  our  dining  rooms  is  certainly 
improving  a little.  Nothing  could  be  more  chilling  tc 
the  mind  and  appetite  alike  than  the  stone-colored  walls^ 
displaying  the  usual  magnificent  oil-paintings  of  an  un- 
known school,  the  bust  of  the  master  of  the  feast  at  one . 
end  looking  almost  less  solemn  than  the  original  under  it. 
the  huge  table  with  its  cumbrous  silver  adornments,  the 
stiff  side 'board  and  the  stiffer  chairs.  Whether  it  was  a 
Puritanical  attempt  at  simplicity  which  insisted  that  if  we 
would  have  a good  dinner  we  should  mortify  the  flesh 
with  bad  concomitants,  or  w^hether  it  was  a foolisli  fancy 
that  a dining-room  should  be  cold,  though  the  dinner 
were  hot,  I cannot  say ; but  I feel  that  the  man  w^ho 
makes  dining  a study — and  he  w^ho  gives  dinners  should 
in  charity  do  so — must  go  farther  in  the  improvements  of 
the  room  than  w^e  yet  have.  Light  and  an  air  of  comfort 
are  the  main  essentials.  The  temperature  must  not,  even 
in  summer,  be  too  low,  for  sitting  at  dinner  produces  a 
chill.in  itself  Thirteen  to  sixteen  degrees  of  Reaumur 
are  fixed  for  it  by  the  author  of  the  Physiologie  du  gout ; 
out  whatever  the  exact  temperature,  it  must  be  obtained 
before  dinner  by  lighting  the  fire  some  hours  previously, 
ind  allowing  it  to  burn  rather  low  until  near  the  end  of 
the  meal,  when  it  must  be  replenished.  There  are  very 
few  days  in  an  English  summer  when  x small  fire  afte^ 
dinner  is  not  acceptable.  Iv  very  cold  weather,  when  a 
targe  one  is  necessary,  it  is  not  easy  to  manage  so  that 


850  DINNERS,  DINERS  AND  LINNER-PARIlEa. 

one-half  of  the  guests  shall  not  have  their  backs  roasted 
and  the  other  not  be  frozen,  but  there  are  two  ways  of 
preventing  it — the  one  by  a large  glass  screen  before  the 
fire,  the  other  by  a table  in  the  shape  of  a horse-shoe 
or  of  a segment  of  a circle,  of  which  the  chord  will  be 
towards  the  fire.  A dinner-giver  will  then  have  his  round 
or  oval  table  so  made  as  to  be  divisible  into  two  separate 
ones. 

The  shape  of  the  table  is,  in  fact,  a more  essential  point 
than  some  people  think.  In  order  that  a dinner  may  be  a 
social  meeting,  not  a mere  collection  of  t ies-  -t  tes^  as 
it  used  to  be  till  recently,  and  still  is  sometimes,  the  table 
must  be  of  a shape  which  will  not  make  conversation  dif- 
ficult between  any  two  or  more  of  the  guests.  The  old 
parallelogram,  with  the  stately  host  at  the  end  and  the 
radiant  but  anxious  lady  at  the  other,  was  fatal  to  con^ 
versation.  It  Avas  too  broad,  toe  long,  too  stiff — the  cor- 
ners cut  off  the  lord  and  lady  of  the  feast  from  their  hon 
ored  guests,  and  necessitated  leaning  across ; while  it 
Monsieur  wished  to  make  a remark  to  Madame,  ho  had, 
independently  of  the  joints,  ( pergne,  and  candelabra,  a 
length  of  table  to  impede  him  which  compelled  him  to 
raise  his  voice  most  unmusically.  It  caused  a complete 
divorce,  in  fact^  and  Sir  Cresswell  Cresswell  could  not 
more  effectually  sever  man  and  wife  than  that  ancient 

board” — for  suck  it  literally  was  in  shape — used  to  do. 
The  modern  table  is  oval.  Some  people  dine  at  rouiul 
tables,  like  Arthur  and  his  knights,  but  these  if  large 
enough  for  a party,  wdll  have  a diameter  every  way  toe 
long  to  allow  any  two  opposite  guests  to  converse.  The 
horse-shoe  table  is  suited  only  for  a small  party,  and  tin 
base  should  not  be  occupied.  As  for  the  hng  planks,’ 


THE  SHAPE  OF  THE 

which  served  us  for  tables  at  college,  and  still  Jc  to  at 
public  dinners,  they  have  the  advantage  over  the  mahog' 
any  of  the  dinning-room,  of  allowing  a guest  five  persona 
to  talk  to  instead  of  one.  but  they  make  elegance  almosi 
impossible.  A lozenge-shaped  table,  with  the  point 
rounded  off,  sounds  Epicurean,  but  it  leaves  open  th 
question — where  are  the  host  and  hostess  tc  sit  ? At 
the  oval  table  I need  scarcely  say  they  sit  in  the  middle 
of  each  side,  opposite  to  one  another. 

The  dining-room  must  be,  of  course,  carpeted  even  in 
the  heat  of  summer,  to  deaden  the  noise  of  the  servants’ 
feet.  The  chairs  should  be  easy,  with  tall  slanting  backs, 
but  without  arms.  As  they  should  not  be  much  higher 
than  drawing-room  chairs,  the  table  must  be  lowered  in 
proportion.  Each  person  should  be  provided  with  a foot- 
stool. 

Light  is  positively  necessary  to  digestion,  and  no  party 
can  be  cheerful  without  it.  It  is  difficult  to  have  too 
much  light,  but  profusion  is  less  desirable  than  arrange- 
ment, while  a mere  glare  becomes  painful.  Gas  and 
candles  should  both  be  avoided  on  that  and  other  ac- 
counts, and  the  best  media  for  lighting  are  carcelle,  or 
moderator-lamps,  covered  with  open  pink  muslin,  or  tar- 
latane,  which,  without  diminishing,  softens  the  light.  The 
principal  object  is  to  throw  as  much  of  it  as  possible  on 
the  table,  with  sufficient  on  the  faces  of  the  guests.  Light- 
ing froixi  the  walls  is  apt  to  throw  the  latter  into  shade, 
and  a chandelier  in  the  middle  must  be  hung  very  low  tc 
do  justice  to  the  former.  Lamps  on  the  table  itself  are 
simply  unpardonable,  and  must  on  no  account  be  admit- 
ted. The  best  plan  is  to  have  four  chandeliers,  contain- 
ing each  one  large  lamp,  and  hung  over  th^  places  where 


352  DINNERS,  DINERS,  AND  DINNER-PARTIES. 

the  four  corners  of  the  table  would  come  if  it  were  a pa5f‘ 
allelogram  instead  of  an  oval.  The  rest  of  the  room,  how* 
ever,  must  not  be  left  in  darkness,  and  lamps  may 
placed  on  the  side-board  and  side-tables.  The  latter  musi 
be  very  neat,  and  both  should  be  ornamented  richly  witl 
dowers  rather  than  with  that  pompous  display  of  plate 
\liich  is  too  commonly  seen. 

A few  words  about  servants  before  we  come  to  the  table 
itself.  Women  Avait  more  quietly  and  quite  as  actively 
as  men,  but  a butler,  who  can  carve  well  and  rapidly,  is 
indispensable.  If,  however,  you  have  men-servants,  they 
should  not  be  too  many.  A party  of  ten  can  be  perfectly 
well  served  by  two  men  and  a butler,  and,  if  there  are 
more  than  these,  they  only  get  in  the  way  of  one  another, 
or  stand  pompously  by  staring  while  you  eat.  Your  ser- 
vants should  be  well  trained  and  instructed,  and  should 
obey^very  order  Hven  by  the  butler.  A master  or  mis- 
tress should  never  speak  to  them  at  dinner,  and  they  must 
be  themselves  as  silent  as  Sappists.  They  should  wear 
light  shoes  that  cannot  creak  and  if  they  have  a napkin 
instead  of  gloves,  you  must  see  that  their  hands  are  per- 
fectly clean.  They  should  have  their  “ beats’’  like  po- 
licemen, one  beginning  at  the  guest  on  his  master’s  right 
and  ending  with  the  lady  of  the  house,  the  other  with  the 
i^uest  on  his  mistress’s  right  ending  with  the  mas^  )r. 

The  table,  on  which  all  eyes  are  turned,  is  :he  next 
point.  Great  changes  have  taken  place  in  the  last  ten  or 
fifteen  years  in  its  arrangements,  and  as  the  Russian  plan 
is  now  adopted  in  the  best  houses,  and  is,  at  the  same  time, 
the  most  elegant,  I shall  not  stop  to  speak  of  any  other. 
The  main  point  is  to.  secure  beauty  without  interfering 
with  conversation.  Given,  therefore,  a taldo-cover,  and  a 


ARRANGEMENT  OF  THE  TABLE 


853 


^h\te  aamask  table-cloth  over  it,  what  arc  we  to  flace 
thereon?  First,  nothing  high  enough  to  ccme  between 
the  heads  of  any  two  of  the  party,  and  therefore  must 
epergnes,  lamps,  and  so  forth,  be  eschewed  as  nuisances 
Next,  that  which  is  pleasant  and  agreeable  to  the  eye.  and 
something  that  it  can  dwell  upon  with  pleasure.  A com- 
mon  object  for  the  centre  is  desirable,  and  this  should  be 
some  work  of  art,  of  Parian  or  china,  not  too  high  noi 
too  large,  and  on  each  side  towards  the  thin  ends  of  the 
oval  should  be  bowls  of  biscuit-ware  or  china,  filled  with 
flowers:  or,  to  be  elegant,  you  may  have  two  little  table-foun- 
tains, provided  their  basins  are  low.  The  rest  of  the  table 
must  be  covered  with  dessert.  By  this  arrangement  plate 
becomes  a secondary  matter,  and  indeed  a display  of  mas- 
sive silver  is  rather  chilling,  and  alwavs  looks  ostentatious, 
[n  addition  to  the  flowers  mentioned,  the  French  often 
place  a bouquet  on  the  napkin  of  each  lady,  and  ffie  at- 
tention is  certainly  a pretty  one.  The  place  for  each  guest 
should  be  roomy,  but  not  too  far  from  his  neighbors.  The 
dinner-service  of  the  present  day  may  be  reduced  to  plates 
alone,  since  everything  else  is  served  at  the  side-table.  I 
am  inclined  to  think  that  pure  white  china  with  a gilt  edge, 
and  the  best  of  its  kind,  is  the  fittest  service  to  dine  off, 
but  this  is  a matter  of  taste  only.  At  any  rate,  the  dessert- 
service  should  be  handsome.  Bachelors  at  dinner  have  a 
great  advantage  in  having  their  light  wine  placed  by  tlu  ir 
glasses  in  black  bottles,  but  in  other  dinners  the  wine  ia 
handed.  It  will,  however,  be  well  on  all  occasions  to  have 
sufficient  glasses  for  all  the  wines  to  be  drunk  placed  3n 
th(  right  hand  of  each  plate,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of 
knives,  spoons,  and  forks.  The  napkins  may  be  folded 
according  to  fancy.  Sometimes  they  are  placed  on  the 


354  DINNERS,  DINERS,  AND  DINNER- MRIIES. 

plate  with  a roll  of  bread  inside,  and  sometimes  ari*ange<J 
in  a fan-shape  in  the  champagne-glasses.  For  my  own 
part.  I prefer  to  think  that  no  hands  have  been  soiling 
mine  before  I use  it,  and  perhaps  the  most  elegant  way  k 
to  lay  them  on  the  table  or  plate  just  as  they  come  froai 
the  washerwoman’s. 

No  dish  but  those  of  dessert  is  placed  on  the  table.  1 
have  spoken  of  this,  in  the  chapter  on  accomplishments, 
under  the  head  of  carving,  and  shall  not  again  discuss  the 
question.  It  suffices  to  say  that  where  Ton  sait  diner” 
no  dish  is  either  carved  or  helped  at  table.  But  I am  now 
going  to  recommend  the  revival  of  an  ancient  practice 
which  is  now  gone  out.  It  is  that  each  plate  should  be 
filled  with  soup  and  put  in  its  place  at  table,  at  the  very 
moment  that  the  guests  are  coming  into  the  room.  The 
object  of  this  is  to  enable  every  one  to  begin  dinner  at  the 
same  moment.  The  hungry  do  not  talk  well,  and  the 
warm  soup  at  once  revives  the  spirits  and  slakes  the  ap- 
petite. It  is  hard  on  a man  to  expect  him  to  begin  con- 
versation while  the  ladies  are  sipping  their  soup  and  he  is 
fVaiting  for  it.  Harmony  and  union  are  the  essentials  of 
dinner,  and  where  it  can  be  so  simply  obtained,  it  is  foolish 
to  neglect  it.  Yet  I have  little  hope  that  this  practice 
will  be  adopted,  because  Engliah  people  seem  to  think 
more  of  the  pomposity  than  the  comfort  of  their  dinner 
and  the  butler  and  men  are  required  tc  stand  and  lool 
gland  as  the  guests  pass  in.  I may  here  observe  that  the 
object  of  soup  being  to  take  the  chill  off  ” the  appetile 
and  prepare  the  inner  man  for  the  reception  of  solids,  a 
light  soup  is  better  than  a thick  one,  which  clogs  the  ap 
petite ; turtle  is  only  fit  for  an  alderman  and  your  souf 
may  therefore  be  inexpensive. 


win. 


865 


After  the  soup  the  wine.  Modern  Englishmen  have  so 
far  improved  upon  their  ancestors,  that  they  nc  longei 
meet  to  drink  but  to  dine,  and  the  amount  of  the  wine  i?. 
therefore  of  far  less  importance  than  its  quality.  The 
or  br  of  the  wines,  reversing  that  of  the  solids,  is  from 
du  lightest  to  the  strongest.  The  author  of  the  Ari  oj 
Dining  tells  us,  that  ‘‘  sherry,  champagne,  port,  and 
claret’’  are  indispensable  to  the  dinner-table.  I should  be 
inclined  to  knock  off  two  of  these,  champagne  and  port,  and 
put  in  a light  Rhenish  in  their  place.  Port  has  become  al- 
most an  impossibility,  for  age  is  a sine  qii  i non  of  this  wine, 
and  unless  you  have  long  had  a good  cellar,  you  have  very 
little  chance  of  obtaining  it  good.  In  fact,  though  still 
placed  on  the  table,  the  use  of  it  seem  to  be  restricted  to 
a few  old  gentlemen,  who  cannot  give  up  their  customary 
drink.  George  the  Fourth  declared  for  sherry,  and  I 
cannot  help  thinking  he  was  right.  At  any  rate,  bad  port 
is  less  drinkable  than  bad  sherry,  and  as  you  will  too 
often  have  only  this  choice  of  evils,  I beg  to  hint  how  the 
alternative  may  be  most  prudently  taken.  Champagne, 
again,  should  be  very  good  to  be  enjoyable,  and  it  is  also 
becoming  more  and  more  difficult  to  procure.  Both  port 
and  champagne  are  doctored  for  every  European  market, 
and  a friend  of  mine  visiting  a famous  wine-grower  at 
Epernay,  tasted  from  the  same  cask  no  less  than  five  dif- 
ferent wines,  all  manufactured  in  a few  hours  out  of  the 
the  same  original  juice.  I suspect  tha^  even  an  English 
wine -merchant  can  produce  as  many  different  vintages’’ 
5om  the  same  stuff,  as  M.  Houdin  does  wines  from  the 
some  bottle. 

The  mingling  of  water  with  wine  is  said  to  have  been 
discovered  by  an  accident.  A party  of  old  Greeks,  not 


d5C  DINNEI{=,  diners,  and  DINNER-PARIIES. 

famous  for  sobriety,  had  been  drinking  on  the  sea-shore, 
when  a storm  arose,  and  in  rapid  haste  they  retreated  to  a 
cave  to  take  shelter.  Probably  tljey  were  not  in  a fit  cond? 
tion  for  carrying  their  goblets  with  them  steadily  At  any 
rate  they  left  them  on  the  shore,  and  when  the  storm  was 
over,  found  their  wine  converted  by  the  rain  into  wine  and 
water.  The  allegation  that  the  mixture  spoils  two  good 
things,  as  two  good  people  are  sometimes  spoiled  by  marriage, 
is  one  which  a tippler  will  support  more  zealously  than  an 
epicure.  Mr.  Walker,  in  the  Original,’’  recommends 
^ven  port  and  water ; but  however  this  may  be,,  some  Bor- 
deaux wines  gain,  rather  than  lose,  by  the  mixture,  and  you 
may  thus  have,  to  accompany  your  eating,  a cooling  drink 
which  will  not  destroy  your  taste  for  the  good  wines  to 
follow  it.  A sensible  man  avoids  variety  in  drinking. 
One  French  wine  during  dinner,  and  sherry  after  it,  or  a 
German  wine  for  the  meal,  and  claret  for  dessert,  will 
leave  you  much  happier  than  mingling  sherry,  champagne, 
claret,  and  port.  Great  care  should  be  used  in  decanting 
wine,  so  as  not  to  shake  or  cork  it.  Claret  appeal's  in  a 
glass  jug,  but  rare  French  wines,  particularly  Bourgogne 
and  the  Vms  du  Midi^  should  be  brought  up  and  placed 
on  the  table  in  their  baskets,  as  decanting  spoils  them. 
Although  the  guest  should  avoid  variety,  the  host  must 
provide  it  in  order  to  meet  the  tastes  of  all,  and  his  ser- 
vants should  be  taught  to  pronounce  properly  the  names 
f the  different  foreign  wines,  which  are  often  so  indistinct 
hat  we  are  led  into  taking  a white  one  when  we  wanted 
«?.d,  or  a French  one  when  we  expected  Rhenish. 

The  bacnelor  has  the  great  privilege  of  drinking  beer 
at  dinner  if  he  likes  it.  I cannot  conceive  how  so  good  and 
harmless  an  accompaniment  of  eating  came  to  be  excluded 


FISH. 


861 


from  the  well-served  table,  unless  from  a vulgar  fancy  that 
what  is  not  expensive  should  not  be  set  before  a guest, 
however  good  it  may  be.  How  happy  people  with  these 
notions  w’ould  be  in  Ceylon,  where  Bass  costs  nearly  a shib 
ling  a ffhiss.  This  reminds  me  of  a story  of  some  vulgar 
ioan  whose  name  I have  forgotten,^  and  do  not  care  to  re- 
aricmber.  Ills  host  simply  enough  said  to  his  guest,  This 
wine  cost  me  six  shilling-s  a bottle.’’  Did  it  ?”  cried  the 

O 

other,  •’then  pass  it  round,  and  let’s  have  another  six 
penn’orth.”  The  connoisseur  of  beer  rightly  judges  that 
it  is  spoiled  by  bottling ; draught  beer  is  also  the  more 
wholesome.  A glass  of  old  port  is  generally  substituted 
for  the  beer  with  cheese,  but  the  drink  with  the  German 
student,  an  ardent  lover  of  it,  tells  you  was  discovered  by 

“ Gabrantius  Konig  von  Brabant 
Der  zuerst  das  Bier  erfand,”  • 

m its  more  natural  accompaniment. 

If  there  were  no  other  advantage  in  the  Russian  sys* 
tern,  as  it  is  called,  it  would  be  w^orth  adopting,  only  be- 
cause it  enables  the  dinner-giver  to  offer  more  variety, 
instead  of  forcing  him  to  sacrifice  taste  to  the  appearance 
of  his  dishes.  Thus  the  turbot  and  the  cod  were  once 
becoming  standing  dishes  at  all  English  dinners,  and 
small  fish  were  banished  because  they  did  not  put  in  a 
majestic  appearance.  Yet  there  are  many  better  fish 
than  cod  and  turbot,  and  there  are  many  ways  of  dressing 
fish  which  may  not  be  so  agreeable  to  the  eye  as  to  the 
falate.  Then,  cfgain,  how  exquisite  is  the  flavor  of  some 
fTCsli-water  fish^  and  of  several  kinds  of  shell-fish,  which 
we  so  seldom  see  at  great  dinners ! How  much  better  the 
variety  of  trout  perch  in  souchet^  fried  gudgeons,  even 


d58  DIN^^EKS,  DINERS,  AND  DINNER-I A KTIES 

eels,  mussels,  and  lampreys  (both  of  which  must  be  mod 
enitely  indulged  in,  the  one  producing  very  often  a rush 
OTi  tlio  fac  i,  which  is  cured  by  large  c(uantities  of  fresh 
iViUk,  and  the  other  being  notorious  as  a regicide,  which 
'iL>se  who  read  the  commonest  history  of  England  will 
renumber),  than  that  perpetual  turbot.  In  fact,  no  kind 
of  eating  can  be  more  varied  than  that  of  fish  ; yet,  by 
sticking  to  antique  traditions,  we  deprive  ourselves  of  the 
enjoyment  of  all  the  wealth  of  sea  and  stream.  There 
are  scores  of  ways  of  dressing  them  all  too,  which  you  can 
learn  in  any  good  cookery-book,  and  almost  any  fish  can 
bo  made  not  only  eatable  but  delicious  by  clever  cooking. 
But  vulgarity  has  driven  many  a good  but  cheap  eatable 
from  the  table  of  the  rich ; and  the  Duke  of  Rutland  was 
quite  right  to  give  Poodle  Byng  his  conge,  when  one  of 
these  despised  delicacies  appeared  at  the  Duke’s  table, 
and  Poodle  exclaimed,  Ah  ! my  old  friend  haddock ! I 
have  not  seen  a haddock  on  a gentleman’s  table  since  I 
was  a boy.”  Oysters,  though  eaten  at  dinner  in  France, 
are  properly  excluded  from  table  in  England,  as  being 
much  too  heating,  and  carp  is  very  indigestible  ; but 
there  are  the  Devonshire  John  Dory,  a far  better  fish 
than  turbot,  red  mullets,  salmon-trout,  whitings,  smelt, 
mackerel,  sturgeon,  the  favorite  of  the  Emperor  of  China, 
and  even  sprats  and  herrings,  to  form  a variety  besides 
those  mentioned  before. 

But  our  chief  thanks  to  the  new  system  are  due  for  ita 
dstracizing  that  unwieldy  barbarism — the  joint.  Nothing 
oan  make  a joint  look  elegant,  while  it  hides  the  master  of 
the  house,  and  condemns  him  to  the  misery  of  carving.  I 
was  much  amused  at  the  observations  of  a writer  on  the 
subject  of  dinners,  who  objected  to  flowers  on  the  tabla 


Tnfi  ORDER  OF  DINNER. 


359 

' bf?cause  we  don’t  eat  flow^ers,  and  everything  that  is  oc 
the  table  ouglit  to  be  eatable.”  At  this  rate  the  coot 
would  have  to  dish  up  the  epergnes  and  candelabra.  But 
the  truth  is,  that  unless  our  appetites  are  very  keen,  the 
light  of  much  meat  reeking  in  its  gravy  is  suflScient  t< 
destroy  them  entirely,  and  a huge  joint  especially  is  cal 
culated  to  disgust  the  epicure.  If  joints  are  eaten  at  all, 
they  should  be  placed  on  the  side-table,  where  they  will 
be  out  of  sight. 

Vegetables  should  properly  be  served  separately  on  a 
clean  plate  after  the  roast,  but  when  served  with  it,  a 
guest  should  be  satisfied  with  at  most  two  kinds  at  a time, 
nothing  showing  worse  taste  than  to  load  your  plate. 
Asparagus,  pease,  artichokes,  haricots,  vegetable  marrows, 
and  spinach  ought,  if  not  a component  part  of  a made 
dish,  to  be  served  separately.  There  are  many  ways  oi 
dressing  potatoes  and  carrots,  which  last  are  a vegetable 
much  neglected  at  English  tables,  but  when  quite  young, 
and  dressed  with  butter  in  the  French  fashion,  a delicious 
eatable,  and  a preventive  of  jaundice,  which  should  rec- 
ommend them  strongly  to  professional  diners-out. 

But  I am  not  a cook,  and  cannot  go  through  ever} 
course  with  you.  It  must  suffice  to  say,  that  the  dishes 
should  not  be  too  many,  and  that  good  cooking  and 
management  make  a better  dinner  than  either  profusion 
or  expenditure,  or  delicacies  out  of  season.  The  main 
p(unts  are  originality  and  rarity,  and  to  have  the  best  of 
everything,  or  not  have  it  at  all.  Perhaps  the  strangest 
dinner  I ever  ate  was  in  teie-d-tete  with  a bachelor  oi 
small  appetite.  There  were  but  two  courses.  To  the 
first  we  stood  up,  opening  our  owm  oysters,  and  devouring 
them  till  we  could  eat  no  more  The  second  course,  to 


niiO  DINNERS,  DINERS,  ^ND  DINNER- PARTIES. 

which  v/e  sat  down,  consisted  of  a dozen  marrow-honf  s 
of  which  we  each'  discussed  six.  They  were  as  hot  a3 
I boy  could  be,  and  excellent.  A variety  of  vegetables 
eciepleted  this  light  rej)ast,  and  though  I could  havs 
dined  more  largely,  I was  bcund  to  confess  that  my  friend 
had  given  me  a dinner  whicli  I should  scarcely  have  got 
elsewhere.  Lest  you  should  be  tempted  to  offer  a simiki 
repast  to  a large  party,  I must  warn  you  that  the  marrow- 
bone is  not  considered  a presentable  dish,  and  that  the 
marrow  must  be  extracted  by  a special  kind  of  spoon,  of 
which  a clean  one  is  required  for  every  bone. 

Brillat  Savarin  says,  that  the  order  of  the  solids  should 
be  from  the  heaviest  to  the  lightest.  This  is  not  strictly 
observed  either  in  France  or  England,  and  it  may  be  use- 
ful to  know  wLat  is  the  order  generally  adopted  in  this 
country.  It  is  as  follows  : — 

1.  Soup. 

2.  Fish. 

3.  Patties  (of  oysters,  lobsters,  shrimps,  or  minced 

^ea]  ) 

4.  Made  dishes,  or  entrees,  which  include  poultry. 

5.  The  roast,  or  piece  de  resistance. 

6.  Vegetables. 

7.  The  game. 

8.  Pastry,  puddings,  omelettes. 

9.  The  ice. 

10.  The  dessert 

The  salad  ought  to  have,  but  seldom  Das  a place  in  tWg 
list,  namely,  after  the  ice,  and  with  cheese.  When  rrado 

a mayonnaise,  that  is  with  chicken,  cold  fish,  or  shell- 
fish, it  comes  in  as  a made-dish.  But  a pure  salad,  well 
dressed  is  a dish  to  set  before  a king.”  and  that  you 


SALADS 


361 


may  be  able  to  dress  it  yourself,  ard  we  may  finish  osj 
dinner  with  cheerfulness,  I give  you  Sydney  Smith’s  ri- 
jeipt  to  learn  by  heart, — 

“ Two  large  potatoes,  passed  through  kitchen  sieve, 

Unwonted  softness  to  the  salad  give. 

Of  mordent  mustard,  add  a single  spoon  ; 

Distrust  the  condiment  which  bites  too  soon  ; 

]Lit  deem  it  not,  thou  man  of  herbs,  a fault 
To  add  a double  quantity  of  salt. 

Three  times  the  spoon  with  oil  of  Lucca  crown, 

And  once  with  vin^^gir  procured  from  town  ; 

True  flavor  needs  it,  and  your  poet  begs 
The  pounded  yellow  of  two  well-boil’ d eggs. 

Let  onion  atoms  lurk  within  the  bowl. 

And,  scarce  suspected,  animate  the  whole  ; 

And  lastly,  on  the  favor’d  compound  toss 
A magic  spoonful  of  anchovy  sauce. 

Then,  though  green  turtle  fail,  though  venisoL  toiigfe. 

And  ham  and  turkey  are  not  boil’d  enough. 

Serenely  full,  the  epicure  may  say — 

Pate  cannot  harm  me — I have  dined  to-day  ! ” 

Well,  dinner  is  done,  but  not  tbe  diners.  There  re- 
mains on  the  table  what  is  a whole  dinner  in  Italy,  and 
what  is  dinner  enough  for  a poet — fruit  and  wine.  Talk- 
ing of  poets,  though,  reminds  me  that  their  chameleon 
exsisteirce  is  only  a poetic  license.  Byron,  who  dined  oflf 
potatoes  and  vinegar  in  public,  generally  rewarded  him- 
self in  private  with  an  unspiritual  beef-steak,  and  cut 
from  the  joint and  the  poets  of  olden  time/’  by  which 
I mean  the  days  of  eating  in  Athens  and  Borne,  were 
also  the  paraistes  of  the  feast,  and  for  a stave  or  two, 
gladly  accepted  a steak  or  two,  just  as  some  later  poetl 
Lave  dined  with  my  Lord  to-day,  on  the  tacit  understand- 
ing that  they  should  write  him  a dedication  to-morrow 
Tn  fact,  Gruh  street  was  not  inappropriately  named,  if 
16 


362  i^xiNiNKRS,  DINERS.  AND  DINNER-PARTIES. 

slang  be  English  , and  most  of  our  own  poets, — 
and  Rogers^  e.  g.^ — have  been  careful  diners.  But,  then, 
the  legend  which  made  Minerva  spring  from  the  head  of 
Tupiter.  has  long  been  proved  a good-natured  mistake 
lestined  to  encourage  our  minion  lyricists,’*  and  then 
s now  no  doubt  that  the  muse  of  song  and  literature  had 
as  large  a corporation  as  any  other  of  the  nine.  Wh^ 
else  is  the  meaning  of  writing  for  bread  ?” 

But  stop,  I had  nearly  forgotten  Grace.  Well,  that  is 
nothing  very  extraordinary,  for  the  thanksgiving  is  posi- 
tively the  last  thing  thought  of  by  the  diner,  and  when  it 
is  remembered,  it  is  too  often  reduced  to  a mere  formality. 
What  ridiculous  mockeries  are  the  long  Latin  graces 
through  which  we  had  to  stand  at  college,  and  the  chanted 
graces  at  public  dinners ! If  a man  be  really  thankful  to 
God  for  what  he  gives  him,  a few  thoughts,  not  words, 
best  express  it ; but  if  words  be  necessary,  let  them  be 
short  and  solemn,  that  each  one’s  heart  may  echo  them 
Dr.  Johnson  w\as  well  reproved  in  his  formal  religion^ 
when  his  wife  told  him  it  was  of  no  use  to  ask  his  Maker 
to  make  him  truly  thankful,  when  the  next  moment  he 
would  sit  down  and  abuse  every  dish  on  the  table ; ani 
what  was  said  to  Johnson  may  be  said  to  many  a pamper- 
ed diner-out,  and  to  many  a grumbling  father  of  a family : 

Better  a dry  morsel  where  love  is,  than  a stalled  ox, 
and”—  let  me  adapt  it  to  the  present  day — griimhlmg 
therewith.”  How  often  does  a man  say  the  words  of  hi^ 
grace,  and  soon  after  find  fault  with  the  dinner,  ungrate* 
ful  alike  to  his  host  and  his  Maker.  But,  as  far  as 
etiquette  goes,  there  is  only  this  to  be  said, — that  the 
audible  grace  is  spoken  by  the  master  of  the  feast,  or  if 
a clergyman  be  { resent,  by  him.  So  in  India,  \ Brab 


DUTIES  OF  HOST  AND  GUEST.  t 86S 

min  was  always  invited  to  bless  the  banquet,  and  give  it 
the  sanction  of  his  presence. 

The  etiquettes  of  dinner  are  not  V3ry  numerous.  'We 
have  already  spoken  in  Chapter  vii.  of  the  manners  pro 
per  at  the  dinner  table.  We  have  now  to  consider  a feiR 
»luties  of  host  and  guest. 

Punctuality  may  be  the  soul  of  business,  but  it  is  also 
that  of  knife-and-fork  play.  Everybody  must  be  punc- 
tual at  the  great  event  of  the  day.  Dinner,’’  said  a 
French  cook,  is  the  hope  of  the  hungry,  the  occupatio’^ 
the  idle,  the  rest  of  the  weary,  and  the  consolation  of 
che  miserable  !”  Can  any  one  be  guilty  of  delaying  such 
% moment  ? The  Romans  complained  that  before  the  sun- 
dial was  discovered,  one  dined  when  hunger  ordered,  but 
afterwards  hunger  had  to  wait  for  time.  In  our  modern 
dining  rooms,  w^e  have  little  fear  that  hunger  wdll  annoy 
Any  one,  but  sometimes  a delay  may  occur  which  may 
make  hunger  a very  intimate  acquaintance.  Thus,  Cam- 
bacer  s,  one  of  the  best  dinner-givers  of  his  day,  once 
kept  his  guests  waiting  three  hours,  while  he  was  engaged 
on  state  business  ; and  Walpole  relates  how  he  once  had 
to  wait  nearly  four  hours  for  dinner  at  Northumberland 
House,  because  thb  Lords  were  reading  the  Poor  Bill. 
The  guests  sat  down  at  last  without  the  Peers,  but  had 
not  done  when  the  legislators  tumbled  in  and  had  the 
whole  dinner  served  up  again.  This  dinner  had  been 
fixed  for  the  then  fashionable  hour  of  five,  and  did  not 
finish  till  eleven.  However,  this  was  more  excusable  than 
the  case  of  a late  nobleman,  w^ho  was  seen  mounting  hia 
horse  for  his  afternoon  ride,  just  as  his  guests  assembkd 
in  the  drawing-room 


364  DINNERS,  DINERS,  AND  DINNER-PARTIES. 


Next  to  the  host  and  hostess,  the  cook  ought  tc  Ih 
punctual.  But  the  guest’s  arrival  is  more  important  still : 
and  the  guest  has  no  excuse,  because  from  the  merest 
s:)lfishnes3,  or  want  of  consideration,  he  may  put  a whole, 
party  to  inconvenience.  The  invited  having  arrived,  th 
lady  receives  them  in  the  drawing-room,  and  the  conver 
gat  :ri  is  necessarily  more  or  less  formal,  for  everybody  is 
waiting  for  the  event.  At  last  a servant  announces  that 
dinner  is  ready.  It  is  then  the  part  of  the  host  to  paii 
off  the  guests.  He  himself  takes  down  the  lady  of  the 
highest  rank,  or  the  greatest  stranger.  Distinctions  of 
rank  are  going  out  in  good  society,  although  precedence 
exists  just  as  a herald’s  office  does ; but  it  may  generally  be 
said  that  age  has  the  real  precedence,  and  a lady  of  ad- 
vanced years  should  not  be  put  behind  any  one  of  rank 
under  royal  blood.  The  most  intimate  with  the  family  take 
the  lowest,  the  least  so,  the  highest  place.  At  dinner 
the  gentleman  sits  to  the  right  of  the  lady,  so  that  th(y 
arrangment  is  easily  made.  In  France  there  is  no  pro- 
cession of  this  kind,  and  the  awkwardness  of  precedence  is 
thus  avoided.  There,  all  the  guests  enter  pell-mell,  and 
find  their  names  written  on  papers  placed  on  their  nap 
kins.  Besides  these  papers  a bill  of  fare  * is  placed  on 
each  plate,  when  the  dinner  is  really  good,  and  the  din- 
ner-giver an  epicure. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  host  to  load  the  conversation  as 
aiuch  as  possible,  and  it  is  still  more  his  duty  to  make  it 
gtjneral.  As,  however,  this  art  is  little  understood  by 
Englishmen,  a m in  will  generally  have  to  talk  more  ci 
less  to  the  lady  on  his  left.  He  must  take  care  not  tc 
neglect  her  fur  the  one  on  his  right,  however  charming  the 


PINNER  ETIQUETTE. 


865 


latter  may  be.  The  dinner  over,  and  the  servants  dig* 
missed,  the  ladies  sit  for  a short  time  at  dessert  and  thee 
retire ; the  youngest  man  in  the  room  rises  to  open  ihe 
ioor  for  them,  and  all  the  rest  rise  and  stand  by  then 
f hairs.  Then  comes  the  drawing-round,”  and  the  con-^ 
versation  grows  lighter  and  easier.  But  young  men  and 
old  should  beware  of  making  it  too  light,  or  of  running, 
as  our  barristers  often  do,  into  stories  that  are  unfit  for 
ladies’  ears. 

A true  gentleman  will  be  the  same  in  ladies’  society  as 
he  is  out  of  it.  A young  man  should  not  linger  over  his 
wine,  and  he  may  rise  and  leave  the  dining-room  before 
the  others  go.  But  it  remains  with  the  host  to  offer  to 
join  the  ladies,”  which  he  should  do  whenever  he  sees 
any  one  growing  warm  over  his  port  and  talking  too  free- 
ly. Coffee  and  tea  are  both  served  up  stairs,  and  both 
should  be  hot.  Coffee  is  drunk  without  milk,  and  wdth 
sugar ; tea,  by  those  who  know  how  to  enjoy  it,  without 
either ; but  they  are  the  rarce  aves  of  society,  men  ^whe 
know  what  is  good  and  enjoy  it  quietly.  A little  green 
tea  is  necessary  after  wine,  for  it  awakens  and  excites. 
No  man  should  drink  enough  wine  to  make  him  feel  toe 
easy  with  the  ladies.  If  he  has  done  so  without  feeling 
its  effects,  he  had  better  go  home  before  he  goes  up  to  the 
drawing-room.  In  France  the  gentlemen  come  away  with 
the  ladies,  and  there  is  no  wine-drinking.  In  England 
he  custom  is  dwindling  down  to  a mere  form,  and  the 
sliorter  you  remain  after  the  departure  of  the  ladies  the 
better.  But  remember,  that  many  meats  require  as  much 
as  four  hours  to  digest,  and  that  the  best  aid  to  digestion 
is  lively,  easy  conversation.  A dinner  party  breaks  uy 


866  DINNERS,  DINERS,  AND  DINNER-PARTIES. 

at  about  eleven.  There  should  be  a little  music  m :he 
evening  ; but  it  is  a great  mistake  to  have  a regular  even- 
ing party  after  a dinner.  At  eleven  you  go  home,  and 
having  had  a walk,  put  on  your  whtce  neck- tie  for  the 
nexi  event  of  the  evening,  which  is  in  the  thir 

toonth  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


LADIES  AT  A DINNER. 

Wj  have  Lext  to  consider  a lady  in  the  all-important 
character  of  a hostess  at  a dinner  party. 

Her  first  duty  in  this  capacity  is  to  send  out  her  invi- 
tations in  due  time  and  proper  form.  With  regard  to  the 
time,  it  is  necessary,  during  the  height  of  the  London 
Beas'iO,  to  send  an  invitation  three  weeks  before  the  din- 
ner party  ;abut,  in  the  quiet  season  of  the  year,  or  in  the 
country  it  is  neither  essential  to  do  so,  nor  usual.  The 
best  plan  for  persons  who  give  many  dinner  parties,  is  to 
have  a plate  with  their  names  and  invitations  printed 
thus : — 

Mr,  and  Mrs.  

Request  the  favor  of 

Mr,  and  Mrs.  ’s 

Company  at  dinner  on  the 

at o*clock. 

In  writing  to  persons  of  rank  far  above  your  own,  or 
to  clergymen  of  high  dignity,  such  as  bishops  and  deans, 
the  word  honor’’  should  be  substituted  for  “ favor.” 

These  invitations  should  properly  be  sent  by  a servant, 
wud  not  by  the  post^  unless  the  distance  be  great. 

Next  comes  the  choice  of  guests,  thus  assembled,  to  si 
iB  close  contact  for  two  hours  or  more. 

This  involves  many  considerations.  If  your  guests  dt 


368 


LADIE?  AT  A DINNER. 


not  assimilate,  no  luxury  of  dinners,  no  perfection  of 
manners  on  your  part,  can  avert  a failure.  Yet  so  little 
is  this  understood,  that  there  are  persons  who  collect, 
it  would  seem,  a party  so  discordant  as  to  provoke  a ques  * 
tion  whether  they  had  not  shaken  them  all  in  a bag 
gether,  ani  turned  them  out  loose  upon  each  other — the 
man  of  easy  principles  with  the  serious  doctor  of  divinity ; 
the  man  of  talent  with  a rich  and  mindless  merchant ; the 
quiet  country  family  with  the  trashy  London  dashers, 
and  so  on;  and  these  solecisms  in  taste  and  discretion 
occur  frequently.  Nor  ought  the  worldly  positions  of 
people  to  be  the  sole  consideration.  Many  a nobleman 
will  assimilate  far  better  with  the  poor  author  than  with 
tlie  millionaire  ; wealth,  simply  because  it  is  w^ealth,  gains 
little  prestige  in  good  circles ; there  is  a prejudice  against 
the  nouveau  riches  among  the  old  families  of  England. 
Neither  is  it  desirable  to  club  all  your  aristocratic  or  fash- 
ionable acquaintance  together ; you  offend  by  so  doing, 
those  who  are  left  out ; and  many  lose  valuable  friends 
who,  however  conscious  they  may  be  of  an  inferior  posi- 
tion, do  not  like  to  be  reminded  of  it.  It  is  something 
too,  to  avoid  giving  pain  to  the  feelings  of  others. 

The  general  rule,  however,  is  to  invite  persons  of  nearly 
the  same  standing  in  society  to  meet  at  dinner ; taking 
care  that  their  general  views  and  mode  of  life  are  not  so 
contrasted  as  tc  be  likely  to  clash.  In  the  country,  dif- 
erence  of  politics  used  to  form  a barrier ; Whig  and  Tory^ 
even  if  they  sat  at  table  together,  would  scarcely  drink 
wine  with  eacti  other.  But  all  that  inconvenience  to  host 
and  hostess  has  long  since  passed  away,  and  to  the  facili- 
ties of  forming  a party  the  custom  of  no  longer  asking  any 
one  to  txke  wine  has  contributed. 


SELECTION  OF  QUESTS. 


869 


Those  who  wish  to  form  agreeable  dinner-parties  will 
ivoid  a class  : a dinner  composed  of  officers  only  And  tlieii 
wives  recalls  too  forcibly  barrack  life;  ^‘talking  pipe 
clay,”  as  they  term  it,  is  as  fatiguing  as  ‘‘the  sbip,^ 
though  not  so  vulgar.  Wives  of  officers  in  marching  regi 
ments  have  generally  travelled  far,  and  seen  nothirg' 
they  can  tell  you  little  but  how  bad  their  quarters  were, 
and  how  they  were  hurried  away  from  such  and  such  a 
place,  The  gentlemen  of  the  bar  sprinkled  about,  make 
a charming  spice  to  a dinner ; but,  like  all  spices,  one 
must  not  have  too  much  of  them  : they  want  keeping 
down,  otherwise  you  have  your  dining-room  turned  into 
Westminster  Hall ; or  you  feel,  if  you  venture  to  talk 
yourself,  as  if  you  were  subjecting  yourself  to  a cross* 
examination.  Yet  the  late  Lord  Grenville  remarked,  that 
he  was  always  glad  to  meet  a lawyer  at  a dinner-party 
for  he  was  then  sure  that  some  good  topic  would  be  started. 
The  title  of  doctor  is  against  the  fascination  of  a physi- 
cian’s manners ; his  very  attentions  may  seem  to  have  an 
interested  air,  since  the  doctor’s  clients  are  in  society.  A 
conclave  of  doctors  is  even  more  formidable  than  one  of 
lawyers,  for  the  former  have  only  to  deal  with  the  consti- 
lution  of  the  state,  and  the  latter  are  looking,  perhaps,  at 
your  constitution,  and  privately  condemning  it.  A whole 
party  composed  of  clergymen  is  perhaps  worse ; delightful 
as  companions,  valuable  as  friends,  as  many  clergymen 
are  when  assembled  they  run  naturally  into  topics  we  io 
aot  wish  to  have  familiarized.  Secular  interests  peep  out 
from  those  we  esteem  sacred  : the  pleasures  of  gastrono 
which  are  as  fully  appreciated  by  the  clergy  as  by 
any  otl:  er  class^  seem  so  little  to  accord  with  the  spirit* 
stirring  eloquence  we  heard  last  Sunday,  that  we  regret 
16* 


S70 


LADIKS  AT  A DINNER. 


having  met  our  ^‘venerable  rector”  under  such  circuro 
otances. 

Pei  haps,”  says  Dr.  Johnson,  good-breeding  consir^U 
in  having  no  particular  mark  of  any  profession,  but  a gci 
eral  elegance  of  tnanners.”  On  this  principle  of  goir. 
ralizing  should  dinner-parties  be  formed. 

In  high  English  society,  to  quote  that  accomplishet. 
member  of  society,  Mr.  Hayward,  in  his  Treatise  on 
Codes  of  Manners^  any  calling  was  some  few  years  since 
derogatory  to  the  perfect  character  of  a gentleman  ; it  is 
now  otherwise.  Yet  the  distinction  of  the  aristocratic 
professions,  as  opposed  to  other  callings,  is  maintained, 
and  it  will  perhaps  continue  to  be  so.  These  are  the 
church,  the  bar,  the  higher  walks  of  medicine,  the  army 
and  navy.  The  different  members  of  these  professions  and 
their  wives  and  families  are  therefore  fit  for  any  society ; 
there  is  no  possible  objection  to  their  mixing  at  a dinnei- 
table  with  nobility,  provided  they  be  well-bred  and  agree- 
able. The  literary  man,  if  a gentleman  by  education  and 
manners,  is  always  an  agreeable  addition ; and  the  highesi 
in  rank  have  in  this  country  set  the  example  of  inviting 
artists,  architects,  and  sculptors,  but  not  always  their  fam- 
ilies, to  their  tables. 

Great  eminence  in  talents  sets  aside  distinctions ; and 
“ the  first  class  of  millionaires,”  Mr.  Hayward  assures  us, 
‘ rise  superior  to  rules.”  But  it  is  not  in  good  taste  to 
follow  out  this  last  maxim,  unless  high  personal  character, 
the  good  employment  of  vast  wealth,  and  a gentlemanlj 
bearing,  accompany  riches.  The  lady,  whose  talk  about 

bigotry  and  virtue”  was  the  amusement  of  the  clubg 
some  years  since,  had  no  right,  in  regard  to  her  husband  s 
jfOsition  ajnd  character,  to  be  associated,  as  she  was,  with 


PRECEDENCE. 


971 
c i 1 

of  Ligh  rank  or  of  old  patrician  families;  the  tar- 
nish hagi  since  been  taken  off  the  picture,  and  It  has  sunk 
down  to  its  original  value,  after  having  been  at  a fabulous 
estimation  in  the  social  mart 

The  next  points  refer  to  the  duties  of  a lady  on  the 
arrival  of  the  guests  at  the  house.  She  remains  in  some 
convenient  part  of  her  drawing-room,  and  too  much  can- 
not be  said  of  the  importance  of  her  being  dressed  some 
time  before  the  party  arrives.  Want  of  attention  in  this 
respect,  though  very  much  less  thought  of  now  than  for- 
merly, is  a real  breach  of  good  manners.  Neither  should 
her  daughters,  should  she  have  any,  come  dropping  in 
one  by  one,  but  should  be  seated,  ready  to  receive  the 
visitors. 

Previously,  however,  to  her  going  up  to  dress,  the  lady 
of  the  house  should  have  arranged,  with  some  considera- 
tion, who  is  to  take  precedence. 

1.  With  respect  to  persons  of  title.  These  take  pre- 
cedence according  to  their  titles;  but.  should  there  be 
diplomatic  foreigners  of  the  first  class,  they  go  out  first ; 
or,  should  there  be  a bishop  and  his  wife,  precedence  is 
usually  given  to  them  by  courtesy,  even  over  dukes  and 
marquises  ; bishops  ranking  with  earls.* *  The  same  cour- 
tesy is  extended  to  all  the  dignified  clergy ; whilst  the 
wives  of  all  the  clergy  take  precedence  of  the  wives  of 
barristers  ; and  the  wives  of  the  esquires,  without  profes* 
siofis  or  trade,  take  precedence  of  both  clergymen’s  and 
barristers’  wives.  These  distinctions  are  seldom,  it  is  true, 
figorously  to  be  pursued,  but  it  is  convenient  to  kno^ 
them ; it  is  as  well,  also^  especially  to  remember  that  the 

• See  Lodgc’e  Orders  for  Precedency,  An  e-rchbiskop  ranks  wiil 

• dake. 


872 


LADIES  A1  A DINNER. 


wives  of  clergymen  and  of  barristers,  by  right,  take  pie* 
cedence  of  the  untitled  wives  of  military  and  naval  men 
There  is  no  place  specified  for  physicans,  who,  however 
are  ranked  in  the  households  of  the  royal  family  next  tc 
the  knights,  and  whose  wives,  therefore,  go  out  after  those 
of  the  barristers. 

These  seem  to  be  worldly  and  unimportant  rules ; but 
whatever  prevents  mistakes,  ill-will,  and  the  possibility  ol 
doing  a rude  action  without  intention,  comes  under  the 
comprehensive  head — How  to  be  civil  with  ease.’’  Be- 
sides, although  in  friendly  society,  as  it  is  called,  a breach 
of  etiquette  might  not  signify,  there  is  so  much  that  is 
unfriendly,  so  much  in  which  criticism  stalks  among  the 
company  seeking  whose  conduct  he  may  challenge,  that  a 
hostess  should  be  perfectly  armed  with  every  defence 
against  comment. 

As  her  guests  enter  she  should  advance  half-way  to 
meet  them.  This  is  a point  of  politeness  ; and  a lady  in 
a county  near  London  gave  great  offence  once  at  her  first 
dinner,  by  standing  with  one  arm  on  her  mantle-piece, 
waiting  till  her  company  came  up  to  her.  All  the  chairs 
should  be  ready,  so  that  there  should  be  no  placing  or 
needless  confusion  ; but,  should  any  change  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  rooms  be  requisite,  it  should  be  made  by  the 
butler  or  by  the  gentleman  of  the  house.  The  lady  of 
the  house  should  do  nothing  but  receive,  converse,  and 
look  as  well  as  she  can.  To  this  end  her  room  and  nl) 
the  minutiae  should  be  tastefully  arranged.  A distribu- 
tion of  natural  flowers  adds  greatly  to  the  gaiety  of  a 
drawing-room,  how  richly  or  poorly  soever  it  may  be  fur- 
nished : people  are  apt  to  forget  in  England,  what  is  nevei 
forgotten  in  Fran?e,  how  greatly  the  style  and  arrange* 


RECEPTION  OF  GUESTS. 


37S 


ment  of  furniture  contribute  to  make  a party  g3  oiBF  well^ 
and  those  engaged  in  it  look  well,  of  which  pleasing  facf 
people  often  have  a sort  of  intuitive  conviction,  even  witi)- 
out  the  aid  >f  the  looking-glass. 

And  now  the  test  of  good-breeding  in  a hostess  is  to 
detected  ; it  is  often  a severe  one.  Her  guests  may  arrive 
all  at  once,  she  must  not  be  hurried,  yet  each  and  all  musl 
feel  that  they  have  her  individual  attention.  She  must 
have  something  pleasing  and  cheerful  to  say  to  every  one, 
but  she  must  not  say  or  do  too  much.  Perhaps  her  guests 
are  late,  or  perhaps,  worst  martyrdom  of  all,  her  servants 
are  late  in  announcing  dinner.  She  chafes  inwardly  ; but 
still,  feeling  as  if  on  a stage,  with  an  army  of  observation 
around  her,  she  bears  up  ; strikes  out  new  subjects  ; ap- 
pears as  if  still  expecting  some  one ; no,  nothing  is  to  go 
wrong  with  her ; be  it  ever  really  so  wrong  that  day, 
she  must  not  seem  to  notice  it. 

It  may  be  argued  that  this  implies  a degree  of  self- 
restraint  akin  to  dissimulation ; but  that  is  an  error  ; self- 
restraint  does  not  imply  dissimulation.  At  le:\gth  dinner 
is  announced ; perhaps  a few  minutes  previously  some 
reckless  youth,  or  sexagenarian,  but  probably  the  former, 
since  the  being  too  late  for  dinner  is  not  commonly  the 
fault  of  age,  comes  breathlessly  in.  I am  shocked  to  say 
I have  seen  married  ladies  look  very  much  out  of  temper 
at  the  delinquent  on  such  occasions,  especially  if  he  hap- 
pened to  be  “ some  one  we  must  ask’’ — a youth  from 
iege,  or  a country  cousin — and  I have  heard  the  gentleman 
call  out  ^‘dinner”  to  the  servant  before  the  door  was 
closed.  The  French  host  and  hostess  would  die  rather 
In  a well-arranged  party  the  butler  should  have  a list  d 


874 


LADIES  AT  A DINNER. 


the  guests,  so  that  he  may  know,  as  one  after  anothei 
comes  in,  that  he  may  be  placing  the  silver  dishes  with  hcM 
water  in  them  on  the  table,  arranging  the  lights,  and  doing 
many  little  things  that  require  time,  and,  if  omitted,  cauet 
delay. 

The  party  being  assembled,  and  dinner  announced,  the 
gentleman  of  the  house  offers  the  lady  of  the  highest  rank 
his  arm,  and,  having  previously  arranged  with  the  othei 
gentlemen  which  ladies  they  are  to  conduct,  moves  off 
with  the  one  he  has  chosen  to  the  dinner-table,  and  places 
her  on  his  right  hand,  next  to  himself. 

The  gentleman  appointed  to  conduct  the  lady  of  the 
house  almost  simultaneously  offers  her  his  arm ; they  fol- 
low, and  are  followed  in  their  turn  by  the  whole  of  the 
company,  linked  by  previous  arrangement.  As  these  va- 
rious couples  enter,  the  master  of  the  house,  already  in 
the  dining-room,  arranges  where  they  are  to  sit.  Some- 
times, however,  and  in  certain  houses,  this  is  not  done, 
but,  more  gracefully  I think,  the  party  seat  themselves  as 
they  enter  ; a due  sacrifice  to  the  rules  of  etiquette  having 
been  made  by  the  master  and  mistress  of  the  house  in  their 
own  persons. 

It  is  still  customary,  but  not  invariably  so,  as  formerly 
for  a lady  to  sit  at  the  head  of  her  own  table.  Let  us. 
however,  suppose  her  there,  as  being  the  most  frequent 
arrangement. 

Henceforth  she  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  dinner,  except 
to  partake  of  it  In  cld  times,  the  lady  presiding  was 
expected  to  carve  every  lish  before  her,  and  to  be  perfect 
in  the  art  of  carving.  Lady  Mary  Montague,  presiding 
at  her  father  s table,  was  condemned,  at  fifteen,  to  perform 


CONVERSATION  AT  DINNER. 


876 

this  feat  whenever  her  father  had  a party.  Had  she  lived 
now  she  need  never  have  touched  a spoon,  fork,  or  knife, 
except  those  on  her  own  plate ; her  lovely  face  might 
have  beamed  serenely  on  those  around  her ; and  her  dawn- 
ing powers  of  mind  have  been  enhanced  by  conversation, 
which  was  in  those  days  impossible.  In  the  present  era 
whilst  the  hostess  should,  as  it  were,  see  everything  tha 
goes  on,  or  does  not  go  on,  she  should  look  at  nothing, 
say  nothing,  and  reserve  all  stricutres  on  failure  and  re- 
proof, if  needful,  not  until  the  time  when  guests  shall  have 
departed,  but  until  the  next  day,  when  her  servants,  hav- 
ing recovered  the  fatigue  of  unusual  exertion,  will  be 
more  willing  to  listen  without  irritation  and  to  good  effect 
than  on  the  previous  evening. 

Drinking  much  wine  is  vulgar,  whether  the  sin  be  per- 
petrated by  a duchess  or  a farmer’s  wife  : all  manifest 
self-indulgence  tends  to  vulgarity.  A lady,  also,  should 
not  be  ravenous  at  table ; neither  should  she  talk  of 
eating  or  of  the  dishes.  Whatever  conversation  takes 
place  should  be  easy ; if  possible  sensible,  even  intellec- 
tual, without  pedantry.  It  may  be  personal,  if  with  pru- 
Jence ; for  nothing  is  so  agreeable,  for  instance,  as  to  hear 
public  characters  discussed  at  table ; and  there  is  a nat- 
ural love  of  biography  in  the  human  mind  that  renders 
anecdote,  without  scandal,  always  agreeable.  The  conver- 
sation at  dinner  tables  is  usually  carried  on  in  an  under 
tone,  and  addressed  first  to  one  neighboring  gentleman, 
then  to  another.  In  large  dinner-parties  general  conver- 
sation te  impossible.  It  is  only  at  that  delightful  form 
of  social  intercourse,  a small  party,  that  one  may  enjoy 
the  luxury  of  an  animated  and  general  conversation. 


876 


LADIES  A DINEER. 


It  is  now  the  custom  for  ladies  to  retire  after  the  ice 
and  dessert  have  gone  round.  They  then  retire,  almost 
in  the  same  order  as  they  came,  to  the  drawing-room 
Here  the  province  of  the  lady  of  the  house  is  to  maintain 
tiasy  and  cheerful  conversation,  and  to  make  it,  if  possible, 
/eneral.  Her  labors  are  often  not  well  repaid,  but,  in 
modern  times,  are  not  of  long  duration. 

One  is  tempted,  however,  sometimes  to  envy  the  French 
customs.  At  a Parisian  dinner-party,  each  gentleman 
rises  with  his  appointed  lady  neighbor,  gives  her  his  arm, 
and  leads  her  into  the  drawing-room,  where  coffee  comes 
in  directly.  Thus  the  evening  begins.  In  some  instances 
the  gentlemen,  and  ladies  also,  soon  take  their  leave ; 
in  others,  remain  till  ten  or  eleven  o’clock.  But  the 
dreary  interregnum  which  still  occurs  in  this  country 
whilst  mine  host  is  circulating  the  bottle  below — and 
ladies  are  discussing  their  servants,  the  last  tooth  their 
baby  cut,  or  the  raging  epidemic,  in  the  drawing-room 
above — is  unknown  in  the  salons  of  Paris. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  all  the  comfort  and  part 
of  the  success  of  a dinner-party  must  depend  on  the  pre- 
vious arrangements  ; but  the  qualities  which  regulate  a 
house,  and  the  experience  which  is  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  important  knowledge  of  how  to  give  a dinner^-party, 
as  far  as  the  material  part  is  concerned,  is  not  in  my 
pjrovince. 

What  Lord  Chesterfield  says  is  here  to  the  purpose: 

The  nature  of  things,”  he  remarks,  is  always  and 
everywhere  the  same,  but  the  modes  of  them  vary  more 
or  less  in  every  country but  good-breeding,  he  adds,  con- 
fists  in  an  easy  and  genteel  conformity  to  them,  or  rather 


AFTER  DINNER. 


3*7^ 

‘tke  assuming  of  them  at  proper  times  and  in  propel 
places.’’ 

In  conclusion,  let  us  recal  the  advice  of  Napoleon  tht 
First,  who  duly  respected  the  importance  of  dinner-parti»:^ 
ft  social  institution  ; 

**  Te*uz  banne  table^  et  wigntz  (€$  ftmmzz 


CHAPTER  XllL 


BALLS. 

Balls  are  the  paradise  of  daughters,  the  purgatcrj  of 
chaperons,  and  the  Pandemonium  of  Paterfamilias.  But 
when  he  has  Arabella’s  ball-dresses  to  pay  for;  when 
mamma  tells  him  he  cannot  have  the  brougham  to-night 
because  of  Lady  Pantile’s  dance  ; when  he  finds  the  house 
suddenly  filled  with  an  army  of  upholsterer’s  men,  the 
passage  barricaded  with  cane-bottomed  benches,  the  draw- 
ing-room pillaged  of  its  carpet  and  furniture,  and  in  course 
of  time  himself  turned  bodily  out  of  his  own  library  with 
no  more  apology  than,  “ We  want  it  for  the  tea  to-night 
when,  if  he  goes  to  bed,  there  is  that  blessed — oh  ! yes,  bless- 
ed— horn  going  on  one  note  all  night  long,  and,  if  he  stops 
up  has  no  room  to  take  refuge  in,  and  must  by  force  of  cir- 
cumstances appear  in  the  ball-room  among  people  of  whom 
he  does  not  know  one  quarter,  and  who  will  perhaps  kindly 
put  the  final  stroke  to  his  misery  by  mistaking  him  for  his 
own  butler ; when  Paterfam.  undergoes  this  and  more,  he 
has  no  right  to  o^mplain,  and  call  it  all  waste  of  time  and 
pure  folly.  Will  he  call  it  so  when  Arabella  announces 
that  she  is  engaged  to  the  young  and  wealthy  Sir  Thysse 
Thatte,  Bart.,  and  that  it  was  at  one  ball  he  met  her,  at 
another  he  flirted,  at  a third  he  courted,  and  at  a fourth 
offered  ? Will  he  call  it  so  when  he  learns  that  it  is  the 
balls  and  parties — innocent  amusements — which  have  kept 
C878) 


THE  INMTAnONS. 


379 


his  son  Augustus  from  the  gaming-table^  and  Adolphus 
from  curagoa  ? Perhaps  he  will  give  them  a worse  epithet 
when  they  have  killed  Ada  and  worn  out  her  uiother.  But 
then  whose  fault  was  that  ? Est  modus  in  rebus^  and 
balls  in  moderation  are  as  different  from  balls  in  excess  a 
gun-practice  at  Woolwich  from  gun-practice  at  Delhi. 

There  is  not  half  enough  innocent  amusement  in  Eng 
land^  and,  therefore,  there  is  far  too  much  vice.  I should 
like  to  see  dancing  come  in  and  drinking  go  out  (as  it 
would  do)  among  our  lower  orders.  I should  like  to  see 
Clod  clap  his  heels  together  on  the  village-green,  instead 
of  clogging  his  senses  with  bad  beer  at  the  village  public- 
house.  They  do  so  in  France,  and  the  Frenr^h  are  a 
sober  race  compared  with  the  English,  It  would  improve 
tlie  health  of  the  women  and  the  morals  of  the  men.  But 
this  is  not  my  ^resent  affair.  The  advantage  of  the  ball 
in  the  upper  classes  is.  that  it  brings  young  people  to- 
gether for  a sensible  and  innocent  recreation,  and  takes 
them  away  from  silly,  if  not  bad  ones,  that  it  gives  them 
exercise,  and  that  the  general  effect  of  the  beauty,  ele- 
gance, and  brilliance  of  a ball  is  to  elevate  rather  than 
deprave  the  mind. 

Balls  can  only  be  given  often  by  the  rich,  but  ball-goers 
are  expected  to  turn  ball-givers  once  a year  at  least,  and 
your  one  dance,  if  well  arranged,  will  cost  you  as  much 
fts  your  dinners  for  the  whole  season.  It  is  not  often  then 
that  people  who  have  no  daughters,  and  are  too  old  to 
lance  themselves,  give  a ball ; and,  as  a rule,  if  you  can- 
not afford  to  do  it  in  good  style,  it  is  better  to  leave  it 
alone.  In  London,  however,  no  one  will  blame  you  for 
not  giving  a dance.  The  difficulty,  then,  is  not  to  find 
balls  enough  to  go  to,  but  time  enough  to  go  to  all. 


580 


BALLS. 


When  you  hare  made  up  your  mind  to  give  a ball,  and 
have  succeeded  in  fixing  a day  when  there  will  be  no  very 
grand  aSair,  such  *as  a court-ball,  to  take  your  guest? 
way,  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  send  the  invitations. 

How  many  shall  we  ask,  Arabella?’’  ? 

Oh  ! at  least  two  hundred,  mamma  I do  so  like  a 
large  ball.” 

‘‘  Nonsense,  my  dear,  our  rooms  won’t  hold  eighty  with 
comfort.” 

^ Then  there  is  the  staircase.” 

A pleasant  prospect  for  late  comers.” 

And  the  hall.” 

‘‘  Where  they  will  have  the  society  of  the  footmen- 
very  agreeable.” 

And  the  conservatory,”  urges  Arabella. 

No,  my  child,  that  is  reserved  for  flirtations.  In 
short,  if  we  have  more  than  a hundred,  it  will  be  a terri- 
ble crush.” 

“ But,  mamma,  a crush  is  quite  the  fashion.  I’m  sure 
people  here  in  London  don’t  go  to  balls  to  dance.” 

“ What  for  then.  Miss  Wisdom  ?” 

“ To  say  they  have  been  there  ; to  say  it  was  a fright- 
ful crush  at  the  Joneses ; to  see  their  neighbors,  to  be 
sure.” 

‘‘  And  to  be  melted  with  the  heat.” 

‘‘  Well,  we  can  ice  them,  mamma.” 

However,  Arabella  is  partly  right.  In  London,  anil 
Juring  the  season,  if  a ball  is  given  as  a formality,  and 
the  rooms  are  not  large,  it  is  better  to  give  up  the  hope 
of  comfortable  dancing,  and  have  the  renommee  of  a 
crush.  All  the  gentlemen  who  failed  to  get  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  all  the  young  ladies  whose  dresse# 


BALLS. 


381 


were  hopelessly  wrecked,  will  execrate,  but  still  lemem 
her  you,  and  it  is  something  to  be  remembered  in  London 
whether  well  or  ill.  So  that  when  you  have  called  yoiii 
guests  together  as  close  as  sheep  in  a fold,  allowed  tluji; 
to  take  an  hour  to  climb  the  stairs,  and  half  an  hour  to 
get  do\^Ti  again,  given  them  a supper  from  Gunter’s.  Aviih 
champagne  of  the  quality  which  induced  impudent  Brum- 
mell  to  ask  for  some  more  of  that  cider ; very  good 
cider  that,”  you  have  done  the  notorious  if  not  the  agree- 
able thing,  and  Mrs.  Fitzjones^  ball  will  be  talked  of  and 
remembered.  But  there  are  better  ways  of  achieving  this 
highly  desirable  notoriety  of  three  days’  duration. 

Any  number  over  one  hundred  constitutes  a ‘‘  large 
ball,”  below  that  number  it  is  simply  a ball,”  and  un- 
der fifty  a dance.”  I have  been  at  a ball  of  ^en  thous- 
and^ as  large  as  the  garrison  of  Paris  itself,  given  by 
Madame  Hausmann  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville  in  that  city 
and  yet,  though  it  was  not  “ the  thing”  to  dance  there, 
the  rooms  looked  almost  empty,  so  many  and  so  large 
were  they.  On  the  other  hand,  I have  been  at  the  Tuil- 
eries  when  there  was  not  a tenth  of  that  number,  and 
found  the  dancing  confined  to  one  little  spot  in  the  long 
gallery,  about  as  large  as  an  ordinary  London  drawing- 
room. In  short,  the  numbers  must  be  proportioned  to 
the  size  of  the  rooms,  with  this  proviso,  that  the  more 
you  have,  the  more  brilliant,  the  fewer  you  have,  the 
more  enjoyable  it  will  be. 

In  making  your  list,  you  must  not  take  in  all  your 
^quaintance,  but  only  all  those  who  are  moveable — the 
marionettes,  in  fact.  Middle-aged  people  think  it  a com- 
pliment to  be  asked  to  a ball  about  as  much  as  the  boa- 
constrictor  in  the  Regent’s  Park  would.  Both  ho  and 


882 


BALLS. 


they  like  to  be  fed,  and  after  five-and-thirty,  it  is  labcrioiu 
not  only  to  dance,  but  even  to  look  at  dancing. 

^'What^Aa/Z  we  do  for  gentleman,  mamma?  T have 
counted  up  thirty-eight  young  ladies  who  dance,  and  only 
twenty-five  partners  for  them.’’ 

In  some  places  this  is  a question  to  which  there  is  no 
answer  but  despair.  Young  men  are  at  a premium  in  the 
ranks  of  Terpsichore  as  much  as  those  of  death,  and  they 
nust  be  bribed  to  join  by  as  large  a bounty,  in  the  shape 
of  a good  supper.  “ I shan’t  go  to  the  Fitzjoneses,”  yawns 
De  Boots  of  the  Scotch  MuflSneers,  the  champagne  w^as 
undrinkable  last  year,  and  the  pite  de  foie  gras  tasted 
like  kitten.”  How  De  Boots  of  the  Muffineers  comes  to 
know  the  taste  of  kitten  does  not  transpire. 

‘‘  Well,  my  love,”  says  mamma,  we  must  get  some 
intimate  friends  to  bring  a young  man  or  two.” 

Thereupon  there  is  a casting  up  of  who  knows  whom, 
and  whom  it  would  be  best  to  commission  as  recruiting- 
sergeant.  But  mamma,  Arabella,  and  the  intimate  ami 
de  la  maison  may  talk  and  write  and  labor,  they  will 
never  make  up  the  full  war  complement,  and  wall-flowers 
will  flourish  still.  This  system  of  bringing  a friend  ” 
is  a very  bad  one,  and  should  be  avoided.  It  reminds  me 
of  a story  of  worthy  Mrs.  P — , who  had  Junot’s  house  in 
Paris,  and  in  its  magnificent  rooms  gave  some  of  the  larg- 
est and  most  brilliant  balls,  but,  owing  to  the  ‘‘friend’ 
system,  very  mixed.  So  much  so  that  on  cne  occasion  a 
gentleman  went  up  to  her  and  told  her  that  there  was  one 
of  the  swell  mob  present.  Mis.  P — was  deaf  and  amia- 
ble. “ Dear  me,”  she  replied,  “ is  there  really  ? I hope 
ho  has  had  some  supper.”  But  the  disciple  of  Fagan  had 
taken  care  af  himself ; he  had  not  only  had  supper,  bul 


THE  ARRANGEMENTS. 


383 


when  he  had  done  using  his  fork  and  spoon^  had,  in  th« 
neatest  manner,  put  them  away  in  his  pocket  so  that  the 
next  time  I went  to  Mrs.  P — ’s,  I found  a moiichard 
gitting  near  the  door,  behind  a large  book.  I was  asked 
tny  name  and  address,  and  doubtless  my  description  wa 
taken  down  too.  I found  that  ladies  as  well  as  gentlemen 
were  treated  in  this  way. 

Your  best  plan,  therefore,  is  to  invite  only  one-third 
more  than  your  rooms  will  hold,  for  you  may  be  sure  that 
more  than  that  number  will  disappoint  you.  The  invita- 
tions should  be  sent  out  three  weeks  beforehand,  and  you 
need  not  expect  answers,  except  from  those  who  have  an 
excuse  for  not  accepting. 

The  requisites  for  an  agreeable  ball  are  good  ventila- 
tion, good  arrangment,  a good  floor,  good  music,  a good 
supper,  and  good  company.  The  arrangements  are  perhaps 
more  important  than  any  other  item,  and  in  this  country 
they  are  little  understood  or  greatly  neglected.  Yet  the 
enjoyment  of  the  dancers  is  materially  increased  by  the 
brillance  and  elegance  of  the  details,  beauty  and  dress  are 
enhanced  by  good  lighting  or  proper  colors,  and  the  illu- 
sion of  a fairy  like  scene  may  be  brought  up  by  judiciou? 
management,  and  the  concealment  of  everything  that 
does  not  strictly  accord  with  the  gaiety.  In  Paris,  where 
balls,  in  spite  of  the  absence  of  supper,  are  more  elegant 
than  anywhere  else,  a vast  deal  of  effect  and  freshness  is 
secured  by  the  employment  of  shrubs,  plants,  and  fioivers^ 
and  these  may  be  freely  used  without  making  your  rooms 
fiintastic.  Thus  that  odious  entrance  from  the  kitchen 
stairs,  which  yawns  upon  the  lobby  of  most  London  houses^ 
should  be  concealed  by  a thick  hedge  of  rhododendrons  in 
pots  ; the  balustrades  of  the  staircase  and  gallery  should 


384 


BiLLS. 


be  woven  with  evergreens,  and  all  the  fire-places  should 
be  concealed  by  plenty  of  plants  m flower.  In  Paiis 
again,  the  musicians  are  unseen,  and  the  strains  of  thi^ 
piano,  horn,  flageolet,  and  violin  proceed  from  behind 
flowery  bank,  artfully  raised  in  one  corner  of  the  bail 
rjom. 

It  is  a rare  thing  in  London  to  find  more  than  four  ot 
five  rooms  e7i,  suite,  and  often  the  number  does  nor  exceed 
two.  In  the  ‘‘  flats’’  of  the  large  French  houses,  you 
have  often  as  many  as  seven  or  eight  rooms  opening  one 
into  another,  and  so  much  is  the  advantage  of  space  re- 
cognized, that  a bed-room  even  is  opened  at  the  end  of 
the  suite,  if  necessary.  I have  danced  in  a room  where 
the  grand  bed  was  standing  in  an  alcove,  scarcely  con- 
cealed by  thin  muslin  curtains,  and  disguised  with  » 
coverlet  of  embroidered  white  satin.  But  in  En^^land  an 
sacrifice  should  be  made  to  secure  a refreshment-room,  if 
not  a supper-room,  on  the  same  floor  as  the  ball-room, 
nothing  being  more  trying  to  ladies’  dresses  than  the 
crush  down  and  up  the  stairs.  A cloak-room  down  stairs 
for  the  ladies,  with  one  or  two  maids  to  assist  them ; a 
tea  and  cofiee  room,  with  at  least  two  servants ; and  a 
hat-room  for  gentlemen,  are  indispensable.  If  the  ball  is 
a large  one,  numbered  tickets  should  be  given  for  the 
cloaks  and  hats. 

Up  stairs  the  color  and  lighting  of  the  rooms  is  essen- 
tial. The  ball-room  especially  should  be  that  which  has 
the  lightest  paper  ; and  if  there  be  dark  curtains,  par  • 
ticularly  red  ones,  they  must  be  taken  down  and  replaced 
by  light  ones.  The  best  color  for  a ball-room  is  very 
pale  yellow.  The  light  should  come  from  the  walla, 
liC.ght<ened  by  strong  reflectors.  Chandeliers  are  dan* 


THE  ELOOK. 


386 

gerous,  and  throw  a downward  shadow ; at  any  rate,  wax 
should  always  be  replaced  by  globe  lamps.  After  ihe 
Tuileries’  balls,  we  often  returned  with  complete  epa-u- 
lettes  of  wax-spots  on  our  shoulders,  if  in  moments  of 
oarelc-ssness  we  had  stood  under  the  chandeliers.  Gas  is 
Lcating,  and  throws  rather  a sickly  glare 

How  can  we  dance  well  without  a proper  ground  ? It 
was  all  very  well  for  nymphs  and  satyrs  to  trip  it  on 
the  light  fantastic  toe’’  over  greensward  and  pebbly  paths, 
but  then  they  did  not  waltz  d deux  temps,  A carpet- 
dance”  is  a bad  dance,  and  the  cloth  drawn  over  the  Kid- 
derminster is  seldom  tight  enough,  and  never  so  good  as  a 
floor.  English  people  have  as  great  a horror  of  taking  up 
their  carpets  as  Frenchmen  are  supposed  to  have  of  wash- 
ing their  necks.  Probably  the  amount  of  dust  which 
would  meet  their  gaze  is  too  appalling  to  think  of  Then, 
again,  English  boards  are  of  a wood  which  it  is  not  easy 
to  polish.  Commend  me  to  the  old  oak-floors  which, 
with  a little  bees’-wax,  come  out  as  dark  as  ebony,  and 
help  the  unskilled  foot  to  glide.  However,  a polished 
floor,  whatever  the  wood,  is  always  the  best  thing  to  dance 
on,  and,  if  you  want  to  give  a ball,  and  not  only  a crush, 
you  should  hire  a man  who,  with  a brush  under  one  foot, 
and  a slipper  on  the  other,  will  dance  over  the  floor  for 
four  or  five  hours,  till  you  can  almost  see  your  face  in  it. 
Above  all,  take  care  that  there  is  not  bees’-wax  enough 
to  blacken  the  ladies’  shoes.  It  is  the  amount  of  rubbing 
which  must  give  it  the  polish. 

Four  musicians  are  enough  for  a private  ball.  If  the 
Dom  is  not  large,  do  away  with  the  horn ; the  flageolet 
is  less  noisy,  and  marks  the  time  quite  as  well.  A piano 
wad  violin  form  the  mainstay  of  the  band ; but  if  the  room 
17 


386 


BALLS. 


be  large,  a larger  band  may  be  introduced  to  gi  eat  advan^ 
tage.  The  dances  should  be  arranged  beforehand,  and 
for  large  balls  you  should  have  printed  a number  of  dou- 
ble cards,  containing  on  the  one  side  a list  of  the  dances , 
Dn  the  other^  blank  spaces  to  be  filled  up  by  the  names  ol 
{lartners  A small  pencil  should  be  attached  to  each 
card,  which  should  be  given  to  each  guest  in  the  cloak- 
room. Every  ball  opens  with  a quadrille,  followed  by  a 
waltz.  The  number  of  the  dances  varies  generally  from 
eighteen  to  twenty-four,  supper  making  a break  after  the 
fourteenth  dance.  Let  us  suppose  you  have  twenty-one 
dances ; then  seven  of  these  should  be  quadrilles,  three 
of  which  may  be  lancers.  There  should  next  be  seven 
waltzes,  four  galops,  a polka,  a polka-mazurka,  and  some 
other  dance. 

We  come  at  last  to  what  some  people  of  bad  taste 
think  the  most  important  part, — the  eating  and  drinking. 
As  a first  rule,  it  may  be  laid  down  that  nothing  should 
be  handed  in  a ball.  A refreshment-room  is,  therefore, 
indispensable.  The  ladies  are  to  be  first  considered  in 
this  matter.  The  refreshments  may  be  simple,  comprising 
tea,  lemonade,  that  detestable  concoction  called  negus^ 
iced  sherbet,  ices,  wafers,  cakes,  and  bonbons.  In  French 
parties  they  give  you,  towards  the  end  of  the  evening,  hot 
chocolate,  and  this  is  coming  into  fashion  in  England,  and 
is  certainly  very  refreshing.  In  the  south  of  Germany 
ft  lady  asks  you  to  fetch  her  a glass  of  beer ; in  Munich, 
this  is  customary  even  in  the  court  circles.  There  is  a 
iemble  prejudice  against  beer  in  England,  tut  it  is  per- 
haps the  best  thing  to  drink  after  dancing.  I'ancy  our 
pretty  Misses  quafiBng  their  pint  of  Bass  ! Yet  ’^fhy  not? 
In  Germany  and  France,  and  now,  too,  in  England,  tlw 


REFRESHMENTS. 


387 


favorite  bonbon  is  a chestnut  or  slip  of  orange  in  a coal 
of  candied  sugar.  I remember  well  at  Munich  a trick 
that  was  played  on  an  old  geheim-rath,  who  was  known 
to  have  a violent  passion  for  oranges  glace  es^  and  suspect 
ed  of  carrying  them  away  in  his  pockets  in  large  quanti* 
ties.  A number  of  young  officers  managed  tc  stuff  his 
ooat-pockets  with  these  bonbons  without  his  discovering  it, 
and  then  one  of  them,  assuming  great  interest  in  the  old 
gentleman,  induced  him  to  sit  down  for  a little  chat. 
When  he  got  up  again  there  was  a stream  of  orange 
juice  issuing  from  each  coat-tail,  and  the  old  man  pottered 
about  quite  unconscious  of  the  amusement  he  excited. 

The  supper,  of  course,  has  a separate  room,  which  must 
be  well  lit.  Of  its  contents,  as  I am  not  a confectioner, 
I can  say  nothing.  Two  things  I can  say : Ice  every- 
thing (in  a London  season)  that  can  be  conveniently  iced, 
and  let  there  be  nothing  that  requires  carving.  The 
fowls  and  birds  should,  therefore,  all  be  cut  up.  The 
supper  hour  in  London  is  generally  midnight,  after  which 
it  goes  on  till  the  end  of  the  ball.  In  England,  it  is 
usually  served  with  much  expense  and  display  on  a table, 
round  which  aL  the  dancers  stand ; but  in  France,  even 
at  the  Tuileries,  it  is  arranged  on  long  buffets,  as  in  our 
public  balls,  the  servants  standing  behind,  and  thus  sav- 
ing a vast  deal  of  pushing  about,  and  much  trouble  to  the 
gentlemen.  Another  importation  from  France,  is  the  cus- 
tom of  giving  hot  soup  at  supper,  and  a very  good  one  it 
is.  In  fact,  hot  things  are  still  to  be  desired  for  supper, 
and  always  will  be  acceptable.  At  a ball  no  one  sits 
down  to  supper  ; at  a small  dance  the  ladies  sit,  and  the 
gentleman  stand  behind  them.  A lady  should  never 
drink  more  than  one  glass  of  champagne,  nor  a man  more 


m 


BALL». 


than  two.  There  is  a modern  custom  which  savc«  tnc 
pockets  of  ball-givers,  and  is  most  grateful  to  dancers^ 
that  of  giving  the  men  bottled  beer.  No  man  of  sens^ 
will  drink  bad  gooseberry  when  he  can  get  good  Bass. 
The  latter  refreshes  more,  and  intoxicates  less  : but  until 
Wi  become  sensible  on  this  point,  champagne  wdll  remain 

indispensable  an  element  of  the  ball-supper  as  trifle 
tipsy-cake,  and  mayonnaise ; which  last,  if  made  with 
fish,  is  the  best  dish  you  can  eat  at  this  meal. 

I now  pass  to  the  etiquettes  of  the  ball-room. 

In  the  days  when  bows  were  made  down  to  an  angle  of 
45®,  and  it  took  two  minutes  to  sink  and  two  to  rise  in  a 
curtsey,  the  givers  of  balls  must  have  been  punished  for 
their  entertainment  by  a stiffness  the  next  day  quite  as 
trying  as  that  of  the  young  gentleman  who  has  followed 
the  hounds  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  As  for  the  worthy 
Prefect  and  Madame  la  Prefecte  de  la  Seine,  they  would 
have  been  carried  away  lifeless  with  fatigue  before  the 
half  of  the  thousands  had  had  their  bow  in  the  receiving- 
room  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville  at  Paris.  In  the  present  day 
the  muscles  of  the  mouth  are  brought  more  into  requisi- 
tion, and  for  the  time  being  the  worst  of  Xantippes  must 
turn  into  an  angel  of  amiability  if  she  gives  a ball.  The 
lady  of  the  house  must,  in  short,  linger  till  supper-time 
ji  the  neighborhood  of  the  door  by  which  her  guests  enter 
the  rooms  ; she  must  have  a pleasant  smile  for  everybody, 
Mid,  if  possible^  she  ahould  know  everybody’s  name,  and 
tiow  many  they  are  in  family.  To  a large  ball  you  ask  i 
great  number  of  people  with  whom  you  have  a slight  ac- 
quaintance, and  of  course  a number  of  gentlemen  arrive 
who  may  be  your  husband’s  or  son’s  friend’s  or  recruits 
levied  by  an  ami  de  la  maison.  To  these  a bow  rather 


RECEIVING  THE  GUESTS.  ' So& 

more  inclined  than  to  your  own  friends,  and  a pai  ticularl}' 
amiable  smile,  is  necessary  ; but  in  order  to  put  them 
quite  at  their  ease,  you  should  be  able  to  come  forwaixl  and 
say  some  little  polite  phrase  or  other.  Are  we  not  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  more-of  your  party  ?’’  perhaps 
you  ask,  when  a mamma  and  one  daughter  are  announced 
But  if  there  are  no  more  of  them  to  come,  how  awkward 
for  you  and  them  ! So  too  it  is  wise  to  avoid  asking  afto 
relations,  unless  you  are  quite  sure  about  their  existence. 
What  can  the  bereaved  widower  say  or  look,  when  in  the 
excess  of  your  amiability  you  inquire  How  is  Mrs.  — ?” 
The  master  of  the  house^  too,  if  he  is  not  gone  out  of 
rown  ‘‘  on  business  for  that  night,  should  be  in  the 
neighboriiv.v.vA  his  spouse,  in  order  to  introduce  to  be- 
any of  his  own  recruits.  The  sons  will  hang  about  the 
same  quarter  for  the  same  purpose,  but  the  daughters  will 
be  otherwise  occupied.  It  is  their  duty  to  see  that  the 
dances  are  formed,  and  a well-bred  young  lady  does  not 
dance  till  she  has  found  partners  for  all  the  young  ladies 
or  as  many  of  them  as  can  be  supplied  from  the  ranks  of 
the  recruits  present.  Now  and  then  you  will  see  her  dart 
anxiously  out  upon  the  landing,  to  press  into  the  service 
those  languid  loungers  who  are  sure  to  be  hanging  about 
the  doors.  She  lias  the  right  to  ask  a gentleman  to  dance 
without  having  a previous  acquaintance,  but  she  must  be 
careful  how  she  uses  it.  I have  known  a case  where  a 
distinguished  young  man  having  declined  her  invitation  re 
dance,  but  being  pressed  by  I can’t  make  up  the  Lnn 
without  you,”  somewhat  reluctantly  accepted,  performi'd 
his  part  so  well,  that  his  partner  was  quite  ejyrise  vith 
Him,  and  even  ventured  on  a little  flirtation.  You  car 
imagine  her  dismay,  when  later  in  the  evening  she  saw  he? 


S90 


BALLS. 


charming  acquaintance  carrying  up  a pile  of  plates  frorc 
the  kitchen  to  the  supper-room.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  had  danced  with  an  occasional  waiter.  The  genus 
wall- flower  is  one  that  grows  well  in  every  ball-room,  but 
a young  lady,  however  plain,  however  stupid,  car.,  if  sh. 
dances  well  always  have  some  partners.  The  great  thing 
is  to  secure  the  first,  who,  on  retiring,  will  say  to  some  of 
his  friends,  “ I’ll  tell  you  who  dances  w^ell;  that  girl  in 
pink,  Miss  A — , I advise  you  to  get  introduced  to  her.’' 
The  right  of  introducing  rests  mainly  with  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  the  house,  but  a chaperon  may  present  a 
gentleman  to  her  charge  ; or  if  you,  being  a man,  are  in- 
timate with  a young  lady,  you  may  ask  her  permission  to 
introduce  some  friend.  It  is  in  very  bad  taste  to  refuse 
this  permission,  but  if  a lady  has  an  insuperable  objection 
to  the  person  in  question,  she  may  decline  to  dance  alto- 
gether, or  refer  the  applicant  to  her  chaperon.  In  France, 
as  I have  said,  no  introduction  is  needed,  though  English 
young  ladies  generally  expect  it  even  at  French  parties. 
At  any  rate,  if  a gentleman  comes  up  to  her  and  asks  her 
to  dance,  she  must  not  reply,  as  a celebrated  English 
beauty  once  did  at  the  Tuileries,  I have  not  the  pleasure 
of  your  acquaintance,”  by  which  she  acquired  the  reputa- 
tion of  very  bad  breeding. 

A young  lady  must  be  very  careful  how  she  refuses  to 
dance  with  a gentleman.  Next  to  refusing  an  olFer  of 
marriage,  few  things  are  so  likely  to  draw  upon  her  the 
iulignation  of  the  rejected  applicant,  for  unless  a good 
reason  is  given,  he  is  apt  to  take  it  as  evidence  of  a per- 
sonal dislike.  There  is  a great  deal  of  polite  (?^  false- 
hood used  on  these  occasions  ‘‘I  am  sorry  that  I am 
engaged.”  I have  a slight  headache,  an  1 do  not  intt^nd 


BALL-ROOM  liTIQUETTE. 


391 


fco  Sance but  a ladj  should  never  be  guilty  even  of  a 
conventional  lie,  and  if  she  replies  very  politely,  asking 
to  be  excused,  as  she  does  not  wish  to  dance  with  you,^ 
being  probably  her  mental  reser vatic  n),  a man  ought  to  hf 
^tisfied.  At  all  events,  he  should  never  pi  ess  her  to 
dance  after  one  refusal.  The  set  forms  which  Turveydro{ 
would  give  for  the  invitation  are  too  much  of  the  deportment 
school  to  be  used  in  practice.  If  you  know  a young  lady 
slightly,  it  ]S  sufficient  to  say  to  her,  ‘^May  I have  the 
pleasure  of  dancing  this  waltz,  &c.  with  you?^’  or  if  in- 
timately, ‘‘Will  you  dance.  Miss  A — The  young 
lady  who  has  refused  one  gentleman  has  no  right  to  ac- 
cept another  for  that  dance ; and  young  ladies  who  do  not 
wish  to  be  annoyed  must  take  care  not  to  accept  two  gen- 
tlemen for  the  same  dance.  In  Germany  such  innocent 
blunders  often  cause  fatal  results.  Two  partners  arrive  at 
xhe  same  moment  to  claim  the  fair  one’s  hand ; she  vows 
she  has  not  made  a mistake ; “ was  sure  she  was  engaged 
to  Herr  A — , and  not  to  Herr  B — Herr  B — is  equally 
certain  that  she  was  engaged  to  him.  The  awkwardness 
is,  that  if  he  at  once  gives  her  up,  he  appears  to  be  indif- 
ferent about  it;  while,  if  he  presses  his  suit,  he  must 
quarrel  with  Herr  A — , unless  the  damsel  is  clever  enough 
to  satisfy  both  of  them;  and  particularly  if  there  is  an 
especial  interest  in  Herr  B — , he  yields  at  last,  but  when 
the  dance  is  over,  sends  a friend  to  Herr  A — . Absurd 
Eis  all  this  is,  it  is  common,  and  I have  often  seen  one  Hen 
or  the  other  walking  about  with  a huge  gash  on  his  cheeky 
his  arm  in  a sling,  a few  days  after  a ball. 

Friendship,  it  appears,  can  be  let  out  on  hire.  Th© 
lady  who  was  so  very  amiable  to  you  last  night,  has  a 
liajht  to  ignore  your  existence  to-day.  In  fact,  a ball 


BALLS. 


B92 

rooHi  acquaintance  rarely  goes  any  fanner,  ULtil  you  ha?i 
met  at  more  balls  than  one.  In  the  same  Avay  a man  can- 
not after  being  introduced  tea,  young  lady  to  danco  with, 
ask  her  to  do  so  more  than  twice  in  the  same  evening 
On  the  Continent^  however  intimate,  he  must  never  dance 
twice  with  the  same  lady,  that  is,  if  she  be  unmarried. 
Mamma  would  interfere,  and  ask  his  intentions  if  he  did 
80.  In  England,  a man  of  sense  will  select  at  most  one 
or  two  partners,  and  dance  with  them  alternately  the 
whole  evening.  But  then  he  must  expect  comment  there- 
upon, and  a young  lady  w’ho  does  not  wish  to  have  her 
name  coupled  with  his,  will  not  allow  him  to  single  her 
out  in  this  manner.  However,  a man  may  dance  four  or 
even  five  times  with  the  same  partner  without  this  risk. 
On  the  other  hand,  a really  w^ell-bred  man  will  wish  to  be 
useful,  and  there  are  certain  people  whom  it  is  imperative 
on  him  to  ask  to  dance — the  daughters  of  the  house,  for 
instance,  and  any  young  ladies  whom  he  may  know  inti- 
mately ; but  most  of  all  the  well-bred  and  amiable  man 
will  sacrifice  himself  to  those  plain,  ill-dressed,  dull-looking 
beings  wdio  cling  to  the  wall,  unsought  and  despairing. 
After  all,  he  will  not  regret  his  good-nature.  The  spirits 
revising  at  the  unexpected  invitation,  the  wall-flow^er  wdll 
pour  out  her  best  conversation,  'will  dance  her  best,  and 
will  sliow"  him  her  gratitude  in  some  way  or  other.  So, 
too,  an  amiable  girl  will  do  her  best  tc  find  partners  fo3 
her  w^lII -flower  friends,  even  at  the  risk  of  sitting:  m\ 
herself. 

I'he  formal  bow  at  the  end  of  a quadrille  has  gradiu- 
giily  dw^indled  away.  At  the  end  of  every  dance  you  oifei 
you  right  arm  to  your  partner  (if  by  mistake  you  offei 
the  kdY  you  may  turn  the  blunder  into  a pretty  compli 


L ALL-ROOM  MANNERS. 


898 


ment,  bj  reminding  her  that  it  is  le  hras  dti  ccetir,  near- 
est the  heart,  which  if  not  anatomically  true,  is  at  least 
no  ’worse  than  talking  of  a sunset  and  sunrise),  and 
walk  half  round  the  room  with  her.  You  then  ask  her 
if  she  will  take  any  refreshment,  and,  if  she  accepts^  you 
Bonvey  your  precious  allotment  of  tarlatane  to  the  re- 
,treshment-room  to  be  invigorated  by  an  ice  or  negus^ 
or  what  you  will.  It  is  judicious  not  to  linger  too 
long  in  this  room,  if  you  are  engaged  io  some  one  else 
for  the  next  dance.  You  will  have  the  pleasure  of  hear- 
ing  the  music  begin  in  the  distant  ball-room,  and  of  re- 
flecting that  an  expectant  fair  is  sighing  for  you  like 
Mariana — 

“ He  coraeth  not,”  sbe  «aid. 

She  said,  “ I am  a-weary  a-weary, 

I would  I were  in  bed;” 

which  is  not  an  unfrequent  wish  in  ^some  ball-rooms.  A 
well-bred  girl,  too,  will  rem.ember  this,  and  ahvays  offei 
to  return  to  the  ball-room,  however  interesting  rhe  con- 
versation. 

If  you  are  prudent  you  will  not  dance  every  dance 
nor,  in  fact,  much  more  than  half  the  number  on  the  list^ 
you  will  then  escape  that  hateful  redness  of  face  at  the 
time,  and  that  wearing  fatigue  the  next  day  wdiich  are 
among  the  'worst  features  of  a ball.  Again,  a gentleman 
must  remember  that  a ball  is  essentially  a lady’s  party> 
ind  in  their  presence  he  should  be  gentle  and  delicate  ai- 
.most  to  afxult,  never  pushing  his  way  apologizing  if  Im 
tread  on  a dress,  still  more  so  if  he  tears  it,  begging  par- 
don for  any  accidental  annoyance  he  may  cccasion,  and 
addressing  everj  Dody  with  a smile.  But  quite  unpardon- 
able are  those  men  whom  one  sometimes  meets,  who. 

17# 


B94 


BALLS. 


BtandiTig  in  a door-way,  talk  and  laugh  as  they  would  in 
a barrack  or  college-rooms,  always  coarsely,  often  indeli- 
cately. What  must  the  state  of  their  minds  be  if  the 
aiglit  of  beauty,  modesty,  and  virtue  does  not  awe  them 
into  silence.  A man,  too,  who  strolls  down  the  rocin 
with  his  head  in  the  air,  looking  as  if  there  were  not  “S 
greature  there  w^orth  dancing  with,  is  an  ill-bred  man,  so 
is  he  w^ho  locks  bored  ; and  worse  than  all  is  he  who  takes 
tco  much  champagne. 

If  you  ire  dancing  wdth  a young  lady  when  the  sup- 
per-room iS  opened,  you  must  ask  her  if  she  would  like 
to  go  to  rapper,  and  if  she  says  yes,’’  which,  in  999 
cases  of  1000,  she  certainly  will  do,  you  must  take 
her  thither.  If  you  are  not  dancing  the  lady  of  the  house 
will  probably  recruit  you  to  take  in  some  chaperon.  How- 
evei  little  you  may  relish  this,  you  must  not  show  your 
disgust.  In  fact,  no  man  ought  to  be  disgusted  at  being 
able  to  do  anything  for  a lady  ; it  should  be  his  highest 
privilege,  but  it  is  not — in  these  modern  unchivalrous 
days — perhaps  never  Avas  so.  Having  placed  your  part- 
ner then  at  the  supper-table,  if  there  is  room  there,  but 
:f  not  at  a side- table,  or  even  at  none,  you  must  be  as  ac- 
tive as  Puck  in  attending  to  her  wants,  and  as  women 
lake  as  long  to  settle  their  fancies  in  edibles  as  in  love 
matters,  you  had  better  at  once  get  her  something  sub- 
stantial, chicken,  jyatk  de  foie  gras^  mayonnaise^  or  what 
you  will.  Afterwards  come  jelly  and  trifle  in  due  course 

A young  lady  often  goes  down  half-a-dozen  times  :o 
{Le  supper-room — it  is  tc  be  hoped  not  for  the  purpose 
of  eating — but  she  should  not  do  so  with  the  same  part- 
ner more  than  once.  While  the  lady  is  supping  you 
must  stand  by  and  talk  to  her,  attending  to  every  want 


PUBLIC  BALLS. 


S9f 


diiJ  the  most  you  may  take  yourself  is  a glass  oi  cham 
pagne  when  you  help  her.  You  then  lead  her  up  stairs 
again,  and  if  you  are  not  wanted  there  any  more,^  you 
Tuay  steal  dow^n  and  do  a little  quiet  refreshment  on  your 
jwn  account.  As  long,  however,  as  there  are  many  h* 
lies  still  at  the  table,  you  have  no  right  to  begin.  Noth' 
ing  marks  a man  here  so  much  as  gorging  at  supper. 
Calls  are  meant  for  dancing,  not  eating,  and  unfortunately 
too  many  young  men  forget  this  in  the  present  day. 
Lastly,  be  careful  what  you  say  and  how  you  dance  after 
supper,  even  more  so  than  before  it,  for  if  you  in  the 
slightest  way  displease  a young  lady,  slie  may  fancy  that 
you  have  been  too  partial  to  strong  fluids,  and  ladies 
never  forgive  that.  It  would  be  hard  on  the  lady  of  the 
house  if  everybody  leaving  a large  ball  thought  it  neces* 
sary  to  wish  her  good-night.  In  quitting  a small  dance, 
however,  a parting  bow  is  expected.  It  is  then  that  the 
pretty  daughter  of  the  house  gives  you  that  sweet  smile  of 
which  you  dream  afterwards  in  a gooseberry  nightmare 
of  tum-tum-tiddy-tum,’’  and  waltzes  a deux  temps ^ 
and  masses  of  tarlatane  and  bright  eyes,  flushed  cheeks 
and  dewy  glances.  See  them  to-morrow,  my  dear  fellow 
it  will  cure  you. 

I think  flirtation  comes  under  the  head  of  morals  more 
than  of  manners ; still  I may  be  allowed  to  say  that  ball- 
P3orr  flirtation  being  more  open  is  less  dangerous  than  ariy 
eUier  But  a young  lady  of  taste  will  be  careful  not  to 
fiauiit  and  publish  her  flirtation,  as  if  to  say,  See,  I 
have  an  admirer  !”  In  the  same  way  a prudent  man  wil 
never  presume  on  a girl’s  liveliness  or  banter  No  man 
of  taste  ever  made  an  ofler  aftei  supper,  and  certainlj 


BALLS. 


d96 

nine -tenths  of  those  who  have  done  so  have  regretted  i 
at  breakfast  the  next  morning. 

Public  balls  are  not  much  frequented  by  people ^of 
society,  except  in  Avatering-places  and  country  ,t  twn^ 
Even  tlicre  a young  lady  should  not  be  seen  at  more  ihan 
two  or  three  in  the  year.  County-balls,  race-balls,  and 
hunt-balls,  are  generally  better  than  common  subscrip- 
tion-balls. Charity-balls  are  an  abominable  anomaly. 
At  public  balls  there  are  generally  either  three  or  foul 
stewards  on  duty,  or  a professional  master  of  ceremonies. 
These  gentlemen  having  made  all  the  arrangements,  order 
the  dances,  and  have  power  to  change  them  if  desirable. 
They  also  undertake  to  present  young  men  to  ladies,  but 
it  must  be  understood  that  such  an  introduction  is  only 
available  for  one  dance.  It  is  better  taste  to  ask  the 
steward  to  introduce  you  simply  to  a partner,  than  to 
point  out  any  lady  in  particular.  He  will  probably  then 
ask  you  if  you  have  a choice,  and  if  not,  you  may  be  cer- 
lain  he  will  take  you  to  an  established  wall-flower.  Pub- 
lic balls  are  scarcely  enjoyable  unless  you  have  your  own 
party. 

As  the  great  charm  of  a ball  is  its  perfect  accord  and 
harmony,  all  altercations,  loud  talking,  &c.,  are  doubly 
ill-mannered  in  a ball-room.  Very  little  suffices  to  dif« 
turb  the  peace  of  the  whole  company. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


MORNING  AND  EVENING  PABI1E8, 


WuEN  all  the  flower  of  Greece  turned  out  at  thj  oij 
of  the  Argive  King,  manned  their  heavy  triremes  and 
sailed  away  to  Tenedos,  do  you  imagine  that  one-fiftieth  pai  t 
of  their  number  cared  as  much  as  a shield-strap  for  that 
lady  of  the  white  arms  but  black  reputation,  whom  the 
handsomest  man  of  his  day  had  persuaded  to  ^ ^ fly  beyond 
her  fate’s  control do  you  believe  it  was  for  fair  false 
Helen  that  they  resolved  to  sack  Troy  ? Not  a bit  of  it, 
it  was  only  an  excuse  for  making  a party.”  So,  too 
it  was  only  for  the  party  and  the  fun  that  all  those  hel- 
meted,  scarved,  iron-cased  knights,  m*ost  preux  and  gal- 
lant, quitted  the  bowers  of  their  lady-loves  (which,  tc 
say  truth,  must  have  been  rather  dull  in  day^  when  there 
were  no  cheap  novels,  no  pianos,  no  crochet,  no  chess,  no 
backgammon,  and  no  newspapers  to  talk  about)  and 
trotted  off  to  Palestine,  determined  to  return  with  the 
scalp  of  a Saladin.  Why,  if  you  were  to  examine  the  com 
sciences  of  nine-tenths  of  those  same  chivalrous  gentlemen 
you  would  find  the  motive  probably  made  up  of  the  fcl 
lowing  ingredients  in  the  following  proportions  : — 


Religion, 

Hatred  of  Turks, 


The  wish  of  my  lady-love, 
Because  it’s  the  fashion, 
Love  of  bloodshed, 


3 

4 

5 
15 


For  the  sake  of  the  p^irty, 


(897) 


898 


MORNxNG  AND  EVENING  PARTIES. 


In  Other  words,  all  the  other  motives  together  wjuld 
not  outbalance  that  prime  consideration. 

People  will  make  a party  for  anything.  Make  a 
party  to  see  the  sun  set;’’  make  a party  to  take  a 
?v'alk  ; ‘‘  make  a party  to  hear  the  nightingale  make 

i party  to  go  to  church  make  a party  to  go  nowhere 
near  church,  but  to  Hampstead  Heath  instead  “make 
a party  to  ride  a donkey  “ make  a party  to  play  at  a 
new  game “ make  a party  to  do  nothing  at  all.”  There 
are  people — very  good  people  they  think  themselves  too  — 
who  cannot  even  read  their  bibles  without  a party,  and 
the  very  people  who  rail  at  balls  and  parties,  and  amuse- 
ment of  any  kind,  will  most  //?zostentatioiisly  make  a 
party  to  see  them  give  away  a hundred  cups  of  tea  or 
fifty  pinafores,  which  act  then  goes  in  the  world  by  the 
name  of  “charity.”  I don’t  think  the  Pharisees  were 
'j[uite  so  bad  as  this,  because  if  they  did  do  their  good 
deeds  in  public,  they  did  not  make  a party  to  come  and 
see  them,  unless  indeed  the  sounding  of  a trumpet  was 
the  Hebrew  way  of  sending  out  invitations. 

However,  this  is  not  my  present  business.  The  system 
of  gathering  a little  assembly  tc  join  in  every  pleasure, 
as  long  as  it  is  free  from  ostentation  and  cant,  only  shows 
w^hat  sociable  and  sympathetic  beings  we  are.  For  the 
real  objects  of  these  parties  are  not,  believe  me,  the  sun- 
jot,  the  walk,  the  nightingale’s  service,  the  donkey,  tl>6 
flew  game,  and  the  dispensing  of  pinafores,  hut  the  ?nter« 
ii'inment  of  one  another’s  society,  so  that  all  parties  having 
Ihe  same  ultimate  aim  may  be  governed  by  the  same  laws 
1 have  made  an  exception  for  dinner  and  dances,  because 
with  many  people  the  food  and  the  waltz  are  the  sole  ob- 
ject. But  in  most  other  cases  the  excuse  given  for  the 


MAKING  A PARTY.  399 

gathering  is  precisely  the  kind  of  thing  which  (y:uld  be 
enjoyed  much  more  in  solitude,  or,  at  most,  with  one 
sympathetic  companion.  Take  a pic-nic  as  an  instance 
We  go  miles,  at  a considerable  outlay  may  be,  :nly  to  en- 
joy some  beautiful  view,  or  to  wander  in  some  ancient 
ruin.  Does  the  small  gossip  of  the  pic-nic  aid  us  in  the 
enjoyment  of  the  former,  or  its  noisy  prattle  hallow  rath- 
er than  disturb  the  memories  of  the  past  that  haunt  the 
latter  ? 

So  then  the  main  difference  in  all  kinds  of  parties  lies 
in  the  selection  of  the  guests,  the  dress  they  wear,  and 
the  peculiar  tone  of  the  conversation.  Another  great 
distinction  lies,  too,  between  town  and  country  parties. 
Let  us  then  divide  parties  under  these  two  general  heads. 

Town-parties  consist  in  conversaziones,  private  concerts, 
private  theatricals,  tea-parties,  and  matinees. 

The  first,  wdiich  also  go  by  the  names  of  Receptions 
ind  At  Homes,’’  have  for  principal  object  conversation 
only,  so  that  in  the  selection  of  guests  youth  and  beauty 
iire  less  considered  than  talent,  distinction,  and  fashion. 
An  Indian  prince,  a great  nobleman  a distinguished 
foreigner,  or  a celebrated  statesman,  are  considered  valua- 
ble attractions,  but  it  must  be  a consolation  to  the  lion- 
Luntress  to  feel  that  if  the  presence  of  these  curiositie^s 
increases  the  reputation  of  her  assemblies,  they  do  by  Ho 
means  add  to.  but  rather  diminish  the  general  ease  of  the 
conversation.  On  the  other  hand,  to  assemble  as  many 
persons  distinguished  for  talents  or  achievements  as  possi 
ble,  must  necessarily  give  them  brilliaiice  ; and,  as  I liav( 
eaid,  the  great  behave  better  in  the  presence  of  rivals  and 
compeers  than  v/here  they  are  chief  planets.  The  invi- 
tations should  be  sent  out  from  a week  to  a fortnight 


100 


MORNING  AND  EVENING  PARTIES. 


befol  ehand.  Tea  must  be  served  in  a separate  roon  ^ tt 
which  the  guests  are  first  conducted,  and  ices  handed 
at  short  intervals  throughout  the  evening.  Sometimes 
,n  smaller  receptions  a supper  is  served,  but  this  is  bj 
10  means  common,  as  from  these  meetings  the  ladies 
/ene rally  repair  to  a ball.  The  hour  for  meeting  is  be 
tween  nine  and  ten,  and  the  party  breaks  up  before  one 
.fi  the  morning.  The  lady  and  gentleman  of  the  liouse 
both  receive  the  guests,  somewhere  near  the  door  of  the 
orincipal  room ; or  if  the  reception  is  a small  one,  the 
<ady  joins  in  the  conversation,  and  comes  forward  when  a 
guest  is  announced.  Two  or  three  rooms  must  be  thrown 
apen,  curiosities,  good  engravings,  handsome  books,  rare 
/niniatures,  old  china,  photographs,  stereoscopes,  and  so 
forth,  laid  out  gracefully  on  the  tables,  and  a liberal  sup- 
ply of  ottomans,  dos  d dos^  and  sofas  placed  about  in  con- 
venient positions,  not,  however,  so  as  to  impede  a general 
movement  about  the  rooms.  In  the  larger  receptions 
gentlemen  should  not  sit  down,  and,  above  all,  not  linger 
tjlose  to  the  door,  but  come  forward  and  talk  sense — not 
ball-room  chit-chat — to  such  people  as  they  happen  to 
know.  Introductions  are  not  here  the  order  of  the  day, 
as  they  must  be  in  balls,  but  the  lady  of  the  house  will 
take  care  to  introduce  gentlemen  to  such  ladies  as  seem 
to  have  none  to  talk  to.  On  the  other  hand,  strangers 
who  enter  your  set  for  the  first  time  must  receive  the 
greatest  attention — the  greater  the  stranger  the  gieate! 
tbe  guest — and  must  be  introduced  to  the  principal  peo- 
ple. The  lady  must  take  care  to  create  circulation,  and 
the  guests  themselves  should  not  be  pinioned  to  one  spot 
or  one  chair. 

The  place  occupied  by  music  in  these  parties  is  a verj 


MUSIC. 


ridiculous  one,  because  it  is  got  up  m\y  to  make  a noise 
and  prevent  people  being  frightened,  like  Robinson  Crusoe.^ 
at  the  sound  of  their  own  voices.  Sometimes  a prcfes* 
eional  musician  or  two  is  "introduced ; sometimes  younjj 
iadies  are  called  upon  to  murder  Italian  or  mouth  out 
German ; sometimes — not  very  often — there  is  some 
charming  amateur  singing,  but  unless  the  professionala 
are  very  great  favorites,  or  the  young  ladies  have  very 
fine  voices,  or  the  guests — rarer  still — can  appreciate 
good  melodious  speaking  music,  the  touch  of  the  first 
notes  is  the  signal  for  every  one  to  find  their  ideas  and 
their  tongues.  So  far  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  mu- 
sic inspires  them,  and  the  people  who  were  stupidest  be- 
fore, suddenly  shine  out  quite  brilliantly ; but  it  is  cu- 
rious that  while  the  first  two  chords  can  effect  this,  the 
remainder,  good  or  bad,  is  drowned  and  talked  down  in 
the  most  ungrateful  manner.  Nothing  can  be  worse  bred 
than  this ; and,  therefore,  in  really  good  society,  you  will 
find  that  people  know  when  to  use  their  tongues  and  when 
their  ears.  As  to  the  etiquette  of  music,  it  is  the  sole 
privilege  of  the  lady  of  the  house  to  ask  a guest  to  sing 
or  play ; and  when  he  or  she  ca?i  do  so  they  will,  if  well 
bred^  at  once  consent,  without  any  palaver.  A young 
lady  must  be  led — poor  victim — to  the  piano  by  some 
gentleman  near  at  hand,  who  then  offers  to  fetch  her  mu- 
sic for  her ; and  there  is  one  hint  which  I will  venture  to 
give  to  young  ladies  when  they  have  get  their  music,  and 
have  quickly  chosen  their  song  or  piece  * never  wait  till 
the  company  is  silent,  do  not  go  on  playing  introductorj 
bars,  and  looking  round  as  if  you  expected  them  to  stop 
talking  for  on  the  one  hand,  you  will  seldom  succeed  in 
making  them  da  so ; on  the  other,  those  who  notice  yov 


fcU'J  JVIORNiNG  AND  EVENINi  PARTIES 

»vill  think  you  are  vain  of  your  talents.  Ma^e  uji  ycui 
mind  that  you  are  to  sing  only  for  the  sake  of  the  con 
versation,  and  be  consoled  that  those  who  can  appreciate 
your  singing  will  draw  near  and  listen.  The  gentleman 
who  has  conducted  you  to  the  piano  now'  stays  to  turr 
n’er  your  pages  for  you;  take  care  that  he  is  able  to  fol- 
low you,  or  give  him  a sign  at  the  proper  moment,  other- 
wise  he  will  be  turning  too  soon,  and  bring  you  both  inU 
terrible  confusion.  The  best  w'ay  of  giving  receptions, 
which  cost  very  little,  is  to  fix  on  some  day  of  the  week, 
and  repeat  them  every  time  it  comes  round.  You  then 
issue  invitations  to  a very  much  larger  number  than  your 
rC'Oms  will  hold  and  for  the  w-hole  course  of  reception^ 
BO  that  your  friends  can  choose  the  weeks  most  convenient 
to  them.  If  at  the  first  party  you  should  only  have  a 
iozen  guests,  do  not  be  disheartened.'  If  your  rooms  are 
well  lit  up  and  well  arranged,  and  yourself  agreeable, 
they  will  be  filled  to  excess  before  the  middle  of  the 
Reason. 

Private  concerts  and  amateur  theatricals  ought  to  be 
very  good  to  be  successful.  Professionals  alone  should 
be  engaged  for  the  former,  none  but  real  amateurs  for  the 
latter.  Both  ought  to  be,  but  rarely  are,  followed  by  a 
supper,  since  they  are  generally  very  fatiguing,  if  not 
positively  trying.  In  any  case,  refreshments  and  ices 
'should  be  handed  between  the  songs  and  the  acts.  Pri- 
vate concerts  are  often  given  in  the  morning,’'  that  is, 
from  two  t six  p.  m.  ; in  the  evening  their  hours  are 
from  eight  to  eleven.  The  rooms  should  be  arrange^!  in 
the  same  manner  as  for  a reception,  the  guests  should  be 
seated,  and  as  music  is  the  avowed  object,  a general 
Bilence  preserved  while  it  lasts.  Between  the  songs  th« 


TEA  PARTIES. 


403 


conversation  ebbs  back  again,  and  the  party  takes  the 
general  form  of  a reception.  For  private  theatricals 
however,  where  there  is  no  special  theatre,  and  where  th^' 
curtain  is  hung,  as  is  most  common,  between  the  folding 
loors  the  audience-room  must  be  filled  with  chairs  an. 
b'^.nclies  in  rows.  and.  if  possible,  the  back  rows  raised 
higher  than  the  others.  These  are  often  removed  when 
tne  performance  is  over,  and  the  guests  then  converse,  or 
sometimes  even  dance.  During  the  acting  it  is  rude  to 
talk,  except  in  a very  low  tone,  and,  be  it  good  or  bad 
you  would  never  think  of  hissing. 

The  tea-party  is  a much  more  sociable  affair,  and  may 
vary  in  the  number  of  guests  from  ten  to  thirty.  The 
lighting  is  by  ordinary  lamps  and  candles  ; two  rooms  suf- 
fice, and  tea  should  be  either  handed  or  set  out  on  a side^ 
'lable  in  one  of  them.  The  guests  should  be  chiefly  ot 
one  set,  and  known  to  one  another ; but  if  they  are  not  so 
they  must  be  generally  introduced.  The  ladies  all  sit 
down,  and  so  m'ay  the  gentlemen  if  they  like,  which  they 
are,  poor  things,  almost  forbidden  to  do  at  receptions. 
The  entertainment  consists  mostly  of  music  and  singing, 
by  ladies  and  gentlemen  present ; but  sometimes  a few 
round  games  are  got  up  for  the  torture  of  old  bachelors 
like  myself.  If  the  singing  is  good,  a tea-fight  may  be  a 
pleasant  thing,  especially  for  curates  and  old  maids  ; but 
in  London  it  does  not  come  under  the  head  of  gaieties,’’ 
ind  therefore  the  invitations  to  it  must  be  given  only  a day 

two  before,  either  by  word  of  mouth  or  a friendly  note. 

The  matinei  requires  three  things  to  make  it  success- 
h good  grounds,  a good  band,  and  good  weather.  Money 
can  command  the  first  two,  but,  as  we  have  no  check  over 
the  clerk  ol  the  weather,  matinees  are  as  well  left  alone 


m 


MOKNING  AND  EVENING  PARTIES. 


in  towns,  where  people  will  dress  exorbitantly  for  every- 
thing of  this  kind.  However,  if  well  arranged,  and  undes 
propitious  skies,  a matinee  is  a very  good  thing  for  ITrba- 
nus,  w'^ho  loves  sunshine,  flowers,  and  gay  tcilets.  The 
company  should  be  very  numerous,  comprising  all  the 
dressed  people  you  know,  for  dress  is  everything  on  tbesa 
occasions.  In  addition  to  a good  brass-band,  you  would 
do  well  to  obtain  the  services  of  a glee  club  to  sing  in  the 
open  air  between  the  instrumental  pieces ; but  then  a ma- 
tinee becomes  a very  expensive  entertainment,  and  so,  in 
fact,  it  must  be.  You  invite  your  guests  for  one  o’clock, 
they  arrive  at  t^vo,  and  disperse  in  time  to  dress  for  dinner. 
They  content  themselves  with  w^alking  about,  listening  to 
the  music,  and  taking  refreshments,  or  if  you  give  it  them, 
a lunch,  in  the  large  marquee,  which,  of  course,  you  have 
had  erected  on  the  lawn.  You  have  no  trouble  with  your 
guests,  and  never  dream  of  introducing  them  ; you  bring 
them  together  under  propitious  circumstances,  and  they 
must  amuse  themselves.  In  matinees  abroad  they  often 
dance.  They  are  there  very  fashionable  and  much  liked. 
In  these  open-air  parties,  in  large  towns  and  their  neigh- 
borhood, people  who  do  not  know"  one  another  remain  :n 
that  condition;  they  are  rarely,  if  ever,  introduced,  and 
they  never  dream  of  speaking  to  one  another  without  an 
introduction.  Very  difierent,  and  much  more  sensible,  is 
the  foreign  custom. 

Foi  these  town-parties,  there  are  one  or  two  genera’ 
yules : The  hostess  should  not  be  too  empresse  nor  bust 
ling  in  her  welcome,  she  should  receive  every  one  alike 
with  amiable  dignity,  and  above  all,  if  she  expects  a lion 
Dr  a grandee,  should  dismiss  him  from  her  thoughts  till 
he  comes,  and  then  make  no  difference  in  his  reception  te 


COUNTKr-PAATIBS. 


406 

tsiat  of  the  other  guests.  If  she  does  make  a distinction 
the  latter  will  smile  cynically  at  her  toadyism,  and  con- 
trast tlieir  own  reception  with  that  of  the  favored  guest 
To  make  up  for  this  restraint  on  her  enthusiasm,  she 
ot  obliged  to  know  much  about  the  domestic  affairs  of 
ner  guests.  In  good  company  of  this  kind,  the  babies  and 
a^rserymaids,  the  son  at  the  Cape,  and  the  daughter  in 
India,  are  forgotten  for  the  time,  or  reserved  for  the  smaller 
tea-party.  In  the  conversazioni  and  receptions,  you  will 
hear  none  but  public  subjects, — every  one’s  property — 
brought  on  the  tapis.  This  knot  you  take  for  statesmen, 
for  as  you  pass,  each  one  of  them  is  prophesying,  with  a 
ohrewd  look,  what  next  step  the  Emperor  will  take.  No, 
<ir,  they  are  simply  fathers  of  families.  Here  you  are  cer- 
{ain  you  have  lighted  on  a batch  of  critics,  male  and 
^emale ; could  ever  any  one  else  show  such  venom  in  the 
discussion  of  the  last  celebrated  book?  Nothing  of  the 
kind ; critics  are  doves  in  company,  and  these  are  only 
educated  men,  with  as  little  actual  connexion  with  litera- 
<.ure  as  a sailor  on  the  mizenyard.  Then  these  men  vfho 
vire  scientifically  discussing  some  recent  discovery,  and 
hanging  profoundly  over  the  fate  of  some  engineering  en- 
terprise, are  merely  thinkers,  by  no  means  professional, 
while  those  who  talk  of  Lord  John  as  an  intimate  clmm^ 
and  Pam.  as  a man  they  could  clap  on  the  shoulder,  are 
not  M.  P.’s,  but  only  club-loungers.  Even  the  gossip 
takes  a public  character,  and  the  scandal  is  about  people 
known  tc  the  whole  world  of  fashion  Then,  again,  the 
mannei  of  the  guests  is  calm  and  easy ; there  is  nc  neces- 
fljy  to  create  mirth,  ti  e laughter  is  quiet,  even  the  wit  ig 
received  with  a smile,  and  discussions  are  carried  on  with 
'Uterest  but  not  with  excitement  All  the  corapany  too 


10(3 


MORNING  AN!  EVENING  PARTIES. 


i?  for  tli8  time  on  an  equality,  and  it  is  bad  taste  Ic  recog- 
nize a man’s  rank  in  a marked  manner.  Precedence  is 
best  laid  aside,  and  the  curate  may,  if  he  likes,  pass  out 

the  room  before  the  bishop.  In  short,  the  recepticn  h 
\ kind  of  evening;  lounge. 

Very  different  is  the  character  of  country-parties.  If 
they  are  more  sociable  and  friendly,  because  almost  every- 
body is  known  to  one  another,  if  there  is  less  formality 
and  display  about  them,  there  is  also  less  equality.  If 
it  is  not  necessary  to  light  your  rooms  brilliantly,  and 
secure  the  services  of  professional  singers,  in  short,  to 
supp!)^  some  particular  attraction,  it  is  incumbent  to  bow 
to  the  local  position  held  by  each  guest.  Not  indeed  that 
this  is  good  style,  but  that  it  is  expected  by  people  who 
veiy  often  have  little  more  than  their  position  to  recom- 
raend  them.  The  deputy-lieutenant  may  be  a much  duller 
man  tijan  the  small  s(iuire,  but  in  his  own  county  he  would 
take  it  very  ill  if  you  did  not  show  him  more  attentipn 
than  to  the  other.  The  vicar  may,  and*  often  is  far  less 
agreeable  than  the  curate,  but  the  latter  would  nevei 
dream  of  making  a move  to  go  before  the  stately  incum- 
bent had  risen.  Then,  too,  the  conversation  always  verges 
on  local  and  rural  topics.  The  two  squires  talk  of  crops 
game,  boundaries,  and  magisterial  questions,  and  find  then 
far  more  interesting  than  the  fate  of  Europe.  Their  wdvea 
discuss  the  flower-show,  the  hunt-ball,  the  return  of  some 
family  to  the  neighborhood.  The  young  people  get  a step 
farther  in  year-long  flirtations,  and  discuss  with  more  or 
less  acerbity  the  engagements  of  their  mutual  friends.  In 
short,  people,  rather  than  things,  are  the  tliemes  of  inter- 
est, and  a stranger  in  a country-party  finds  himself  almost 
a foreigner  in  the  land.  And  woe  to  him  if  he  does  not 


TENDER  GROUND. 


401 


knc  w by  what  title  your  nearest  pack  of  houn  Is  is  called 
or  is  Ignorant  of  the  noble  sport  of  hunting,  for.  heavy- 
headed  after  their  huge  dinners,  he  will  find  most  of  tha 
gentlemen  unable  to  exert  their  brains  farther  than  to  IC' 
call  that  splendid  run,’’  or  speculate  on  whether  the 
liext  master”  will  be  a light  or  a heavy  weight. 

However  in  country-parties,  the  strangers  in  the  land 
receive  as  a rule  the  greatest  attention,  and  if  you,  coming 
from  town,  find  the  company  heavy,  and  the  conversation 
narrow,  you  wiH  at  least  have  the  consolation  of  infusing 
new  spirit  into,  and  quickening  the  movement,  of  clogged 
brains- 

Country-parties  consist  chiefly  of  small  dances  which 
are  not  balls  ; tea-parties  ; private  fetes,  which  are  much 
the  same  as  the  matinees  already  described;  and  pic-nics. 
^Sociability  and  easy  mirth  is  the  main  feature  in  all  of 
them.  As  you  are  among  people  whom  you  kn  >w  for  the 
most  part,  you  may  be  more  familiar  in  yonr  general 
manners,  and  to  be  agreeable,  you  are  expected  to  be  merry, 
humorous,  and  ready  for  anything  that  may  be  proposed. 
On  the  other  hand,  as  prejudices  are  always  greater  ip 
proportion  to  the  narrowness  of  the  mind,  and  are  some- 
times especially  deep-rooted  in  the  squires  and  clergymen 
whom  you  meet  in  these  gatherings,  you  must  be  very 
careful  how  you  approach  the  topics  which  most  interest 
them.  I have  known  a whole  party,  at  one  moment  full 
^f  merriment  and  laughter,  suddenly  cast  into  the  deepest 
gloom  of  horror  and  dismay,  by  the  innocent  allusion  of  a 
stranger  to  AT.  B.”  w’aistcoats,  the  rector  who  was 
present  being  high-church.  On  the  same  princifle  it  ie 
wise  to  avoid  speaking  much  of  the  church  itself,  the 
•chools,  the  dispensary,  the  preserves,  the  poor,  and  so 


m 


MORNING  AND  EVENING  PARTIES. 


fortL  of  the  village,  as  country  people  are  soniewhai 
g;iven  to  making  these  subjects  matters  for  serious  differ^ 
cQce,  and  it  is  a rare  case  for  the  squire  and  the  clergy 
Vi)n\\  to  be  perfectly  agreed  on  all  points  where  their  snp 
jA)sed  rights  can  possibly  clash.  I have  known  a village 
ilivid('xl  into  a deadly  feud  for  ten  years  by  nothing  but 
the  pews  in  the  church — one  party  wishing  to  keep  them, 
Sind  another  to  pull  them  down  ; and,  though  these  re- 
ligious-minded people  met  perhaps  once  a month  at  vari- 
ous tea-parties  and  dinners,  the  church  was  never  spoken 
of,  and  a stranger  who  might  have  unconsciously  mention- 
-h1  the  pews  therein,  would  have  thrown  in  a firebrand 
Finch  would  have  lit  up  the  whole  parish. 

On  entering  a country  party,  you  at  once  seek  out  the 
lady  of  the  house,  and  shake  hands  with  her.  The  same 
process  is  then  performed  with  those  members  of  the 
family  whom  you  know,  and  any  other  of  your  acquain- 
tance present.  In  taking  leave  the  same  process  is  repeat- 
ed, and  a simple  bow  would  generally  be  considered  as  an 
impoliteness.  The  invitations  to  these  parties  partake  of 
the  same  sociable  character,  and  are  made  by  friendly 
notes  sent  a few  days  beforehand,  or  even  on  the  very  day 
itself.  You  have  not  the  same  liberty  of  declining  them 
as  in  town,  nor  can  you  have  recourse  to  the  polite  formu 
la  of  a previous  engagement,  since  everybody  knows 
what  is  going  on  in  the  neighborhood,  and  who  is  to  l:;6 
at  any  party.  You  must  theref  )re  find  a good  excuse  or 
go.  For  my  part,  I think  we  should  be  better  Chris- 
tians, and  just  as  friendly,  if  we  stated  our  real  reasons^ 
^ I regret  that  I have  not  the  time  to  spare,’’  I dc  not 
foe',  inclined  for  society,”  or,  I have  no  dress  for  me 
WJcasioD.”  Such  replies  might  create  a little  surprise 


IN  THE  COUNTRY. 


40& 


but  people  must  admire  their  candor,  and  everybody  could 
sympathize  with  the  writer’s  feelings.  At  any  rate,  you 
must  avoid  a sneer  such  as  that  given  by  a toe  candid  1 1 
dy  to  a clergyman’s  wife  who  had  invited  her  to  a auiui 
little  discussion  of  muffins  on  Shreve  Tuesday.  I re- 
gret,” she  wrote  that  I shall  be  unable  to  accept  joui 
xivitation-;  as  the  near  approach  of  Lent  would  preclude 
aiy  joining  in  any  festivities.” 

Country  hours,  again,  are  much  earlier  than  those  in 
town.  Except  at  great  houses,  where  the  dinner  hour  is 
seven,  eight  o’clock  is  the  usual  time  for  a tea-party  to 
begin,  and  before  twelve  the  last  guest  departs.  It  is  iie 
cessary  to  be  punctual  in  the  country,  whatever  you  may 
be  in  town  ; and  it  would  be  considered  as  an  unAvarrant- 
able  assumption  of  fashion  to  arrive  an  hour  after  the 
time  stated  in  the  invitation. 

Tea  is  handed  in  the  drawing-room,  or,  if  the  party  be 
a small  one,  so  arranged  that  all  may  sit  round.  In  the 
latter  case  the  tea-table  must  be  plenteously  spread  with 
cakes,  fruit,  &c.  &c.  Appetites  flourish  in  the  free  air 
of  hills  and  meadows,  and  as  a rule,  country  parties  have 
more  of  the  feeding  system  about  them  than  those  of  tOAvn. 
Thus,  unless  dinner  has  been  at  a late  hour,  it  is  usual  to 
have  a supper  laid  out,  or  at  least  sandAAUches,  jellies,  and 
i^rifle  at  a side-table.  This,  I must  say  i»  a more  agreea- 
ble feature  of  country  entertainments  than  that  of  round 
Shames.  At  these,  however,  you  must  not  look  bored ; 
yf)U  must  really  for  the  time  believe  yourself  a child 
again,  alloAV  yourself  to  be  amused,  and  enter  heart  and 
soul  into.  it.  Endeavor  by  every  means  in  your  poAvei 
to  add  to  the  general  hilarity ; talk  Avithout  restraint,  em 
into  innocent  rivalry  with  the  young  ladies;  or  if 
18 


110  MORNING  AND  EVENING  PARTIES. 

one  of  them  yourself,  challenge  the  most  youth  ful^  esj^ 
cially  the  shy,  of  the  other  sex.  You  must  find  some- 
thing to  laugh  at  in  the  merest  trifle,  but  never  roar  oi 
shriek.  Never  claim  your  winnings,  but  if^they  are 
offered  you  must  take  them,  except  from  a young  lady 
»nd  from  her  on  no  consideration. 

While  w^e  are  melting  here  under  the  dog-star,  and 
crushing  up  crowded  staircases,  and  into  ovens  of  rooms 
m the  tightest  dress  that  is  w’orn,  our  country  cousins  are 
really  enjoyiug  themselves.  They  are  now  having  tea 
out  on  the  lawn,  wdth  hona  fide  cream  to  it  too,  none  of 
our  miserable  delusions  of  calves’  brains  (beautiful  satire 
on  those  w^ho  credulously  swallow  them)  or  chalk  and 
water.  Then  when  tea  is  done,  they  are  positively  going 
to  dance  here  on  the  lawn,  or  there  in  that  large  empty 
out-house,  resolved  that  nothing  shall  induce  them  to  go 
into  that  house  again  till  night ; and  if  they  do  not  nee, 
they  bring  out  every  chair  that  is  in  it,  and  sitting  round, 
play  at  hunt-the-ring,  post,  turning  the  trencher,  or  Blind 
Man’s  Buff.  What  dear  children  they  are  ! how  pleasant 
to  see  the  old  gentlemen  dragged  in  by  the  young  girls, 
and  made  to  play  iiolentes  volentes ! how  charming  the 
laughter  of  these  merry  maidens,  and  the  playful  flirta- 
tion of  the  sturdy  youths,  w^ho  all  day  long  have  been 
carrying  a gun  or  breaking  a new  horse  in  ! Well,  w^ell. 
if  there  is  beauty  enough  to  make  us  bless  the  excitement 
which  brings  the  color  to  some  lovely  cheek, — if  the 
fcung  men  3an  really  help  looking  bored,  and  the  old 
sham  delight  (as  we  old  ones  can,  let  me  tell  you. 
eir)^  ’^hy,  then,  these  out-door  gaieties  may  be  fresh  and 
reviving  and  cheering  to  us  dusty,  withered,  smoke-dried 
townsmen.  But  then  where  is  conversation  ? Swamped 


pyc-Nics. 


411 


in  badinage  which,  if  I am  not  a young  lover,  I cannot 
possibly  pump  up.  And  where  is  that  flow  of  thought 
and  diversity  of  imagination  which  makes  one  hour  wiib 
a clever  man  or  a fernme  d' esprit  worth  twenty- four  ii 
die  presence  of  a mere  beauty  and  animal  spirits? 

Urre. 

So,  then,  they  are  matters  of  taste,  these  little  parties 
but  not  so  the  etiquette  they  require.  You  must  be  gay, 
you  must  laugh  and  chuckle  and  all  that,  but  you  must 
not  overdo  it ; you  must  not  let  your  merriment  carry  you 
away.  In  out-door  games  especially,  you  must  be  careful 
not  to  romp,  not  to  rush  and  tear  about,  nor  be  boister- 
ously merry.  It  may  be  difficult  to  steer  between  the 
Scylla  of  dullness  and  the  Charybdis  of  romping,  but  you 
must  always  remember  what  dear  fragile  things  the  ladies 
are,  and  treat  them  tenderly.  These  games  are,  in  fact, 
a severe  test  of  politeness,  grace,  and  delicacy,  and  if  I 
wanted  to  discover  your  title  to  the  name  of  gentleman 
or  lady,  I should  set  you  to  play  at  post  or  hunt-the-ring 
or  what  not  of  child’s  sport. 

Lastly,  as  to  pic-nics,  they  are  no  longer  the  cheerj 
gatherings  of  other  days,  when  each  person  brought  his 
quantum,  and  when  on  opening  the  baskets  there  were 
found  to  be  three  pigeon-pies  but  no  bread,  four  contribu- 
tions of  mustard  but  no  salt,  dozens  of  wine  but  no  beer, 
and  so  on.  The  only  thing  you  are  asked  to  bring  in  the 
present  day  is  your  very  best  spirits ; and  everybody  ii 
expected  to  contribute  these,  for  you  cannot  have 
ouch  of  them.  A castle,  a church,  or  something  to  see 
about  which  tc  create  an  interest,  is  necessary  to  a sue 
cessful  pic-nic,  much  more  so  than  champagne,  which  it 
ia  perhaps  safer  not  to  have,  th  )ugh  it  is  always  expected 


412 


MORNING  AND  EVENINJ  PARTIES. 


Servants  ought,  if  possible,  to  be  dispensed  with,  and  8 
free  flow  of  the  easiest  merriment,  not  fi'ee  in  itself,  it 
i7ill  be  understood,  should  be  allowed  and  encouraged. 

The  collation,  cold  of  course,  is  generally  the  first  ob- 
ject after  arriving  at  the  rendezvous.  It  is  of  necessity 
rimowliat  rough,  for  these  same  pic-nics  are  the  hapi  # 
i^casions  when  people  ti^y  to  forget  that,  they  are  higlii}* 
C'vilized,  but  are  scarcely  ever  allowed  to  do  so.  How- 
i\'er,  nothing  is  more  justly  ridiculous  than  that  people 
whe  come  out  to  play  the  rustic  should  be  accompanied  by 
a bevy  of  Mercuries,  and  that  while  we  attempt  to  imitate 
the  simplicity  of  rural  dryad  life,  spreading  our  viands 
beneath  the  shady  trees,  we  should  have  some  half-dozen 
stately  acolytes  of  fish  ion  moving  about  us  with  all  the 
solemnity  of  a London  dinner-party.  The  servants  then 
should  be  driven  away  a force  d’armes^  and  the  gentle- 
men take  their  place.  Then  see  how  immensely  it  in- 
creases the  general  hilarity  to  watch  FitzboOts  of  the 
Muffineers  sent  about  by  the  pretty  misses,  made  of  use 
hr  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  with  his  hands  so  full 
:ljat  he  cannot  even  stroke  out  his  splendid  whiskers. 

Certainly  the  barriers  of  society  ought  to  be  broken 
3own  on  these  occasions.  Everybody  should  be  perfectly 
his  ease,  and  if  the  people  are  really  well-bred,  the 
liberty  thus  given  will  not  be  the  least  abused.  A man 
«ho  drinks  too  much  champagne^  or  a young  lady  whe 
rolls  away  for  a couple  of  hours  with  a young  mau 
3.inong  the  ruins  or  in  the  wood,  should  scarcely  be  asked 
lo  join  a second  pic-nic.  Then,  too,  free  as  they  are,  gay 
laughing,  and  careless,  they  should  not  descend  to  noisj 
romping.  There  ought  to  be  a fair  sprinkling  of  chape 
rons  and  elderly  people,  rot  to  damp  the  gaiety  but  t< 


ric-Nics. 


413 


restrain  the  carelessness  of  the  young^^r  ones.  After  all 
let  youth  be  youth,  and  let  it  have  its  fling.  If  it  be 
really  innocent  and  well  brought  up,  Miss  Etiquette,  pi  in} 
old  maid,  will  have  nothing  to  say  ; if  otherwise,  then  she 
may  preach  in  vain  at  a carnival.  If  our  spirits  are 
good  (and  I feel  quite  young  again  in  talking  of  these 
things)  let  us  enjoy  them  to  the  fullest,  and  be  as  silly 
and  as  wild  as  the  youngest.  Never  shoot  a sky  lari 
while  soaring : never  curb  young  mirth  in  its  proper 


CHAPTER  XV. 


MARRIAGE. 

Ax  a dn;e  when  our  feelings  are  or  ought  to  be  most  sus* 
ceptiMe,  when  the  happiness  or  misery  of  a condition  in 
wliich  there  is  no  medium  begins,  we  are  surrounded  with 
forms  and  etiquettes  which  rise  before  the  unwary  like 
spectres,  and  which  even  the  most  rigid  ceremonialists 
regard  with  a sort  of  dread. 

Were  it  not,  however,  for  these  forms,  and  for  this 
necessity  of  being  en  ngle^  there  might,  on  the  solemni- 
zation of  marriage,  be  confusion,  forgetfulness,  and  even — 
speak  it  not  aloud — irritation  among  the  parties  most  in- 
timately concerned.  Excitement  might  ruin  all.  With- 
out a definite  programme,  the  old  maids  of  the  family 
would  be  thrusting  in  advice.  The  aged  chronicler  oi 
past  events,  or  grandmother  by  the  fireside,  would  have 
it  all  her  way ; the  venerable  bachelor  in  tights,  with  his 
blue  coat  and  metal  buttons,  might  throw  everything  into 
confusion  by  his  suggestions.  It  is  well  that  we  are  in- 
dependent of  all  these  interfering  advisers  ; that  there  is 
no  necessity  to  appeal  to  them.  Precedent  has  arranged 
It  all ; we  haye  only  to  put  in  or  understand  what  tliat 
stern  authority  has  laid  down ; how  it  has  been  varied  by 
modern  changes ; and  we  must  just  shape  our  cours«^ 
boldly.  Boldly  But  there  is  much  to  be  done  be- 
fore we  ccme  to  that.  First,  there  is  the  offer  to  be 

^414^ 


416 


aiale.  Well  may  a man  who  contemplates  such  a stoj* 
iay  to  himself,  with  Dryden, 

“ These  are  the  realms  of  everlasting  fate 

for.  in  truth,  on  marriage  one’s  wellbeing  not  only  her 
but  even  hereafter  mainly  depends.  But  it  is  not  on  thii 
healing  of  the  subject  that  we  wish  to  enter,  contenting 
ourselves  with  a quotation  from  the  Spectator  : 

“ .It  requires  more  virtues  to  make  a good  husband  or 
wife,  than  what  go  to  the  finishing  any  the  most  shining 
cnaracter  whatsc*ever.^’ 

England  is  distinguished  from  most  of  the  continental 
countries  by  the  system  of  forming  engagements,  and  the 
mode  in  which  they  are  carried  on  until  terminated  by 
marriage. 

In  France,  an  engagement  is  an  affair  of  negotiation 
and  business  ; and  the  system  in  this  respect  greatly  re- 
sembles the  practice  in  England,  on  similar  occasions,  a 
hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred  years  ago,  or  even  la- 
ter. France  is  the  most  unchanging  country  in  the  world 
in  her  habits  and  domestic  institutions,  and  foremosl 
among  these  is  her  ‘‘  Marriage  de  convenance^'^  oi 
Marriage  de  raison P 

It  is  thus  brought  about.  So  soon  as  a 3’oung  girl 
quits  the  school  or  convent  where  she  has  been  educated, 
her  friends  cast  about  for  a suitable  parti.  Most  parents 
in  France  take  care,  so  soon  as  a daughter  is  born,  to 
put  aside  a sum  of  money  for  her  rfof,”  as  they  well 
Snow  that  whatever  may  be  her  attractions,  that  is  indis- 
pensable in  order  to  be  married.  They  are  ever  on  the 
look  out  for  a youth  with  at  least  an  equal  fortune,  or 
more ; or,  it  they  are  rich,  for  title,  which  is  deemed 


m 


MARRIAGE 


tantamount  to  fortune ; even  the  power  of  writing  those 
two  little  letters  De  before  your  name  has  some  value  in 
the  marriage  contract.  Having  satisfied  tliemselves  thcv 
ilius  address  the  young  lady  : — It  is  now  time  fir  yov. 
to  be  married;  I know  of  an  eligible  match  ; you  can  soe 
the  gentleman,  either  at  such  a ball  or  (if  he  is  serious) 
at  church.  I do  not  ask  you  to  take  him  if  his  appearv 
ance  is  positively  disagreeable  to  you  ; if  so.  we  will  look 
out  for  some  one  else.^’ 

3 a matter  of  custom,  the  young  lady  answers  that  the 
Will  of  her  parents  is  hers  ; she  consents  to  take  a survey 
>f  him  to  whom  her  destiny  is  to  be  entrusted  ; and  let 
us  presume  that  he  is  accepted,  though  it  does  not  follow^ 
and  sometimes  it  takes  several  months  to  ' :k  out,  as  it 
does  for  other  matters,  a house,  or  a place,  or  a pair  of 
horses.  However,  she  consents ; a formal  introduction 
takes  place ; the  promis  calls  in  full  dress  to  see  his  fu- 
ture wife ; they  are  only  just  to  speak  to  each  other,  and 
those  few  unmeaning  words  are  spoken  in  the  presence  of 
the  bride-elect’s  mother;  for  the  French  think  it  most 
indiscreet  to  allow  the  affections  of  a girl  to  be  interested 
before  marriage,  lest  during  the  arrangements  for  the 
contract  all  should  be  broken  off.  If  she  has  no  dislike, 
it  is  enough  ; never  for  an  instant  are  the  engaged  couple 
left  alone,  and  in  very  few  cases  do  they  go  up  to  the  altar 
with  more  than  a few  weeks’  acquaintance,  and  usual Iv 
with  less.  The  whole  matter  is  then  arrange  1 by  ncta- 
ies,  who  squabble  over  the  marriage-contract,  and  get  al 
they  can  for  their  clients. 

The  contract  is  usually  signed  in  France  on  the  day 
before  the  marriage,  when  all  is  considered  safe  ; the  reli- 
gious portion  of  their  bond  takes  place  in  the  church,  and 


THE  PROPOSAL. 


411 


then  the  two  young  creatures  are  left  together  to  uiulor* 
stand  each  other  if  they  can,  and  to  love  each  o:hev  il 
they  will ; if  not  they  must  content  themselves  with  whal 
is  teimed,  im  menage  de  Paris. 

In  England  formerly  much  the  same  system  prevailed 
A boy  of  fourteen,  before  going  on  his  travels,  w^as  ccii' 
tfcicted  to  a girl  of  eleven,  selected  as  his  future  wife  by 
parents  or  guardians;  he  came  back  after  the  grande, 
tour  to  fulfil  the  engagement.  But  by  law  it  was  imper« 
ative  that  forty  days  should  at  least  pass  between  the 
contract  and  the  marriage  ; during  which  dreary  interval 
the  couple,  leashed  together  like  two  young  greyhounds 
would  have  time  to  think  of  the  future.  In  France,  the 
perilous  period  of  reflection  is  not  allowed.  I reallyam 
BO  glad  we  are  to  take  a journey,’’  said  a young  Frencb 
lady  to  her  friends  ; I shall  thus  get  to  know  something 
about  my  husband;  he  is  quite  a stranger  to  me.”  Some 
striking  instances  of  the  Marriage  de  convenance  being 
infringed  on,  have  lately  occurred  in  France.  The  late 
Monsieur  de  Tocqueville  maried  for  love,  after  a five 
years’  engagement.  Guizot,  probably  influenced  by  hi^ 
acquaintance  with  England,  gave  his  daughterb  liberty  tc 
choose  for  themselves,  and  they  married  for  lovc^ — a 
very  indelicate  proceeding,”  remarked  a French  com- 
tesse  of  the  old  regime.^  when  speaking  of  this  arrange* 
mcnt. 

Kothing  can  be  more  opposed  to  all  this  than  our  Eng 
fish  system.  We  are  so  tenacious  of  the  freedom  of  choice, 
that  even  persuasion  is  thought  criminal. 

In  France  negotiations  are  often  commenced  on  the  la 


• Two  brothers,  named  De  TVitU* 
18* 


418 


MAERIAGE. 


dy’s  side ; in  England,  never.  Even  too  encouraging  a 
manner,  even  the  ordinary  attentions  of  civility,  are  occa- 
sionally a matter  of  reproach.  We  English  are  jealous 
of  the  delicacy  of  that  sacred  bond,  which  we  presume  to 
liope  is  to  spring  out  of  mutual  affection.  It  is  not  here 
our  province  to  inquire  what  are  the  causes  that  have  so 
sullied  the  marriage  tie  in  England;  what  are  the  reasons 
that  it  seldom  holds  out  all  that  it  promises;  we  have  only 
to  treat  of  the  rules  and  etiquettes  which  preface  the 
union.  A gentleman  who,  from  whatever  motives,  has 
made  up  his  mind  to  marry,  may  set  about  it  in  two  ways. 
He  may  propose  by  letter  or  in  words.  The  customs  of 
English  society  imply  the  necessity  of  a sufficient  knowl- 
edge of  the  lady  to  be  addressed.  This,  even  in  this 
country,  is  a difficult  point  to  be  attained  ; and,  after  all, 
cannot  be  calculated  by  time,  since,  in  large  cities,  you 
may  know  people  a year,  and  yet  be  comparative  stran- 
gers ; and,  meeting  them  in  the  country,  may  become 
intimate  in  a week. 

Having  made  up  his  mind,  the  gentleman  offers — wise- 
ly if  he  can,  in  speech.  Letters  are  seldom  expressive  of 
what  really  passes  in  the  mind  of  man ; or,  if  expressive, 
seem  foolish,  sin  ce  deep  feelings  are  liabl  e to  exaggeration . 
Every  written  word  may  be  the  theme  of  cavil.  Study, 
care,  which  avail  in  every  other  species  of  composition 
are  death  to  the  lover’s  effusion.  A few  sentences,  spoken 
in  earnest,  and  broken  by  emotion,  are  more  eloquent  than 
pages  of  sentiment,  both  to  parent  and  daughter.  Let 
him,  however,  speak  and  be  accepted.  He  is  in  that  case 
instantly  taken  into  the  intimacy  of  his  adopted  relatives. 
Such  is  the  notion  of  English  honor,  that  the  engaged 
couple  are  henceforth  allowed  to  be  frequently  alone  to- 


THE  ENGAGEMENT. 


419 


gether,  in  walking  and  at  home  If  there  be  no  knowi 
obstacle  to  the  engagement,  the  gentlemen  and  lady  arc 
mutually  introduced  to  the  respective  relatives  of  each.. 
It  is  for  the  gentleman’s  family  to  call  first ; for  him  to 
make  the  first  present ; and  this  should  be  done  as  soon  as 
pos.uMe  after  the  offer  has  been  accepted.  It  is  a sort  of 
seal  put  upon  the  affair.  The  absence  of  presents  ia 
thought  to  imply  want  of  earnestness  in  the  matter.  This 
present  generally  consists  of  some  personal  ornament,  say, 
a ring,  and  should  be  handsome,  but  not  so  handsome  as 
that  made  for  the  wedding-day.  During  the  period  that 
elapses  before  the  marriage,  the  betrothed  man  should 
conduct  himself  with  peculiar  deference  to  the  lady’s 
family  and  friends,  even  if  beneath  his  own  station.  It 
is  often  said : ‘'I  marry  such  a lady,  but  I do  not  mean 
to  marry  her  whole  family.”  This  disrespectful  pleasant- 
ry has  something  in  it  so  cold,  so  selfish,  that  even  if 
the  lady’s  family  be  disagreeable,  there  is  a total  absence 
of  delicate  feeling  to  her  in  thus  speaking  of  those  near- 
est to  her.  To  her  parents  especially,  the  conduct  of 
the  betrothed  man  should  be  respectful ; to  her  sisters 
kind,  without  familiarity  ; to  her  brothers,  every  evidence 
of  good-will  should  be  testified.  In  making  every  provi- 
sion for  the  future,  in  regard  to  settlements,  allowance  for 
dress,  &c.;  the  of  liberality  convenient  should  be 

the  spirit  of  all  arrangements.  Perfect  candor  as  to  hi? 
own  affairs,  respectful  consideration  for  those  of  the  fami- 
ly he  is  about  to  enter,  mark  a true  gentleman. 

In  France,  however  gay  and  even  blameable  a man  may 
have  been  before  his  betrothal,  he  conducts  himself  with 
tlie  utmost  propriety  after  that  event.  A sense  of  what 
ia  due  to  a lady  should  repress  all  habits  unpleasant  to 


120 


MARRIAGE. 


aer : smoking,  if  disagreeable ; frequenting  places  of 
amusement  without  her ; or  paying  attention  to  otln.M 
women.  In  this  respect,  indeed,  the  sense  of  honor  should 
lead  a man  to  be  as  scrupulous  when  his  future  wife  is 
absent  as  when  she  is  present,  if  not  moie  so.  These 
rules  of  conduct  apply  in  some  respects  to  ladies  also. 
Nothing  is  so  disgusting  or  unpromising  for  the  future  as 
the  flirtations  which  engaged  young  ladies  permit  them* 
selves  to  carry  on  after  they  have  pledged  themselves  to 
one  person  alone.  This  display  of  bad  taste  and  vanity 
often  leads  to  serious  unhappiness,  and  the  impropriety, 
if  not  folly,  should  be  strongly  pointed  out  to  the  young 
lady  herself. 

The  attitude  assumed  by  a flirt  is  often  the  impulse  of 
folly  more  than  of  boldness.  It  is  agreeable  to  her  vanity, 
she  finds,  to  excite  jealousy,  and  to  show  her  power.  Even 
if  the  rash  and  transient  triumph  produce  no  lasting  ef- 
fect on  the  peace  of  mind  before  marriage,  it  is  often  re- 
tailed with  bitterness  after  marriage  by  him  who  was  then 

slave,  but  is  now  a master. 

In  equally  bad  taste  is  exclusiveness.  The  devotions 

two  engaged  persons  should  be  reserved  for  the  ttte-d 
Cie,  and  women  are  generally  in  fault  when  it  is  other- 
^"uie.  They  like  to  exhibit  their  conquest ; they  cannot 
dispense  wdth  attentions ; they  forget  that  the  demonstra- 
tion of  any  peculiar  condition  of  things  in  society  musl 
^ake  some  one  uncomfortable  ; the  young  lady  is  un- 
e^3mfortable  because  she  is  not  equally  happy ; the  young 
man  detests  what  he  calls  nonsense  ; the  old  think  there 
Hi  a time  for  all  things.  All  sitting  apart,  therefore,  and 
peculiar  displays,  are  in  bad  taste  ; I am  inclined  to  think 
that  they  often  accompany  insincerity,  and  that  the  truest 


PECUNIARY  MATTERS. 


421 


affections  are  those  which  are  reserved  for  the  genuine 
’uid  heartfelt  intimacy  of  private  interviews.  At  the  same 
Sme,  the  airs  of  indifference  and  avoidance  should  be 
^|ually  guarded  against ; since,  however  strong  a mutual 
ittachment  may  be,  such  a line  of  conduct  is  apt  nee^l 
Isssly  to  mislead  others,  and  so  produce  mischief.  Tru'^j 
feeling,  and  a ladylike  consideration  for  others,  a point  in 
which  the  present  generation  essentially  fails,  are  the  best 
(guides  for  steering  between  the  extremes  of  demonstra- 
tion. on  the  one  hand,  and  of  frigidity  on  the  other. 

During  the  arrangement  of  pecuniary  matters,  a young 
lady  should  endeavor  to  understand  what  is  going  on,  re- 
ceiving it  in  a right  spirit.  If  she  has  fortune,  she 
should,  in  all  points  left  to  her,  be  generous  and  confiding, 
at  the  same  time  prudent.  Many  a man,  she  should  re- 
member, may  abound  in  excellent  qualities,  and  yet  be 
improvident.  He  may  mean  to  do  well,  yet  have  a pas- 
sion for  building ; he  may  be  the  very  soul  of  good  na 
ture,  yet  fond  of  the  gaming-table ; he  may  have  no 
wrong  propensities  of  that  sort,  and  yet  have  a confused 
notion  of  accounts,  and  be  one  of  those  men  who  muddh 
away  a great  deal  of  money  no  one  knows  how ; or  he 
may  be  a too^  strict  economist,  a man  who  takes  too  good 
care  of  the  pence,  till  he  tires  your  very  life  out  about  an 
extra  queen’s-head ; or  he  may  be  facile  or  weakly  gcod*^ 
natured,  and  have  a friend  who  preys  on  him,  and  for 
whom  he  is  disposed  to  become  security.  Finally,  th^ 
btdoved  Charles,  Henry,  or  Reginald  may  have  none  oi 
these  propensities,  but  may  chance  to  be  an  honest  mer- 
chant, or  a tradesman,  with  all  his  floating  capital  in 
business,  and  a consequent  risk  of  bemg  ^n^  da;  Vicb,  thf 
next  h pauper. 


422 


Makhiaiie. 


Upon  every  account,  therefore,  it  is  iesirable  for  a 
young  lady  to  have  a settlement  on  her ; and  she  should 
not,  from  a weak  spirit  of  romance,  oppose  her  friends 
who  advise  it,  since  it  is  for  her  husband's  advantage 
well  as  her  own.  By  making  a settlement  there  is  always 
a fund  which  cannot  be  touched — a something,  however 
amall.  as  a provision  for  a wife  and  children ; and  whether 
she  have  fortune  or  not,  this  ought  to  be  made.  An  aU 
lowance  for  dress  should  also  be  arranged ; and  this  should 
be  administered  in  such  a way  that  a wife  should  not  have 
to  ask  for  it  at  inconvenient  hours,  and  thus  irritate  her 
husband 

Every  preliminary  being  settled,  there  remains  nothing 
except  to  fix  the  marriage  day,  a point  always  left  to  the 
lady  to  advance ; and  next  to  settle  how  the  ceremonial  is 
to  be  performed  is  the  subject  of  consideration. 

Marriage  by  banns  is  confined  to  the  poorer  classes ; and 
a license  is  generally  obtained  by  those  who  aspire  to  the 
“ habits  of  good  society It  is  within  the  recollection  of 
many,  even  middle-aged  persons,  that  the  higher  clasvses 
were,  some  twenty  years  ago,  married  only  by  special 
license — a process  costing  about  £50  instead  of  £5  : and 
therefore  supposed  by  our  commercial  country  especially  to 
denote  good  society.  Special  licenses  have,  however,  be- 
come unfashionable.  They  were  obtained  chiefly  on  ac- 
count of  their  enabling  persons  to  be  married  at  any  hour 
whereas  the  canon  prescribes  the  forenoon : aftei  mid-daj 
t is  illegal  to  celebrate  a marriage.  In  some  instances, 
during  the  Crimean  war,  special  licenses  were  resorted  t' 
to  unite  couples-— when  the  bridegroom-elect  had  beer, 
ordered  off,  and  felt,  with  his  bride,  that  it  were  happier 
for  both  to  belong  to  each  other  even  in  death.  But  tlw 


THE  JLICBNSS  AND  THE  TROUSSEAU. 


42S 


Mdinarj  couples  walk  up  to  the  altars  of  their  respective 
parish  churches. 

It  is  to  be  lamented  that  previously  to  so  solemn  a cer- 
emony, the  thoughts  of  the  lady  concerned  must  neces- 
sarily be  engaged  for  some  time  upon  her  trousseau.  The 
trousseau  consists,  in  this  country,  of  all  the  habiliments 
necessary  for  a lady’s  use  for  the  first  two  or  three  years 
of  her  married  life ; like  every  other  outfit  there  are  al- 
ways a number  of  articles  introduced  into  it  that  are  next 
to  useless,  andf  are  only  calculated  for  the  vain-glory  of 
the  ostentatious.  A trousseaii  may,  in  quiet  life,  be  form- 
ed upon  so  low  a sum  as  £60  or  £70;  it  seldom  costs, 
however,  less  than  £100,  and  often  mounts  up  to  £500. 
By  which  useless  extravagance  a mass  of  things  that  soon 
cease  to  be  fashionable,  or  that  wear  out  from  being  laid 
by,  is  accumulated. 

The  trousseau  being  completed,  and  the  day  fixed,  it 
becomes  necessary  to  select  the  bridesmaids  and  the  bride- 
groom’s man,  and  to  invite  the  guests. 

The  bridesmaids  are  from  two  to  eight  in  number.  It 
IS  ridiculous  to  have  many,  as  the  real  intention  of  the 
bridesmaid  is,  that  she  should  act  as  a witness  of  the  mar- 
riage. It  is,  however,  thought  a compliment  to  include 
the  bride’s  sisters  and  those  of  the  bridegroom’s  relations 
and  intimate  friends,  in  case  sisters  do  not  exist. 

When  a bride  is  young  the  bridesmaids  should  be  young 
but  it  is  absurd  to  see  a single  woman  of  a certain  age,’’ 
or  a widow,  surrounded  by  blooming  girls,  making  her  look 
plain  and  foolish.  For  them  the  discreet  woman  of  thirty- 
five  is  more  suitable  as  a bridesmaid.  Custom  decides 
that  the  bridesmaids  should  be  spinsters,  but  there  is  no 
legal  objection  to  a married  waman  being  a bridesmaid 


i24 


MARRIAUifl. 


should  it  be  necessary,  as  it  might  be  abroad,  or  at  sea,  cn 
where  ladies  are  few  in  number.  Great  care  should 
taken  not  to  give  offence  in  the  choice  of  bridesmaids  bj 
a preference,  which  is  always  in  bad  taste  on  momeritou? 
^jcasions. 

The  guests  at  the  wedding  should  be  selected  with  sim* 
ilar  attention  to  what  is  right  and  kind,  with  consideration 
to  those  who  have  a claim  on  us,  not  only  to  what  we 
ourselves  prefer. 

In  London,  for  a great  wedding  breakfast,  it  is  custom- 
ary to  send  out  printed  cards  from  the  parents  or  guar- 
dians from  whose  house  the  young  lady  is  to  be  married. 

Early  in  the  day,  before  eleven,  the  bride  should  be 
dressed,  taking  breakfast  in  her  owm  room.  In  England 
we  load  a bride  with  lace  flounces  on  a rich  silk,  and  even 
sometimes  with  ornaments.  In  France  it  is  alw^ays  re- 
membered, with  better  taste,  that  when  a young  lady  goes 
up  to  the  altar,  she  is  “ encore  jeune  Jillc her  dress, 
therefore,  is  exquisitely  simple ; a dress  of  tulle  over  white 
silk,  a long  wide  veil  of  white  tulle,  going  down  to  the 
very  feet,  a wreath  of  maiden-blush-roses  interspersed 
with  orange  flowers.  This  is  the  usual  costume  of  a 
French  bride  of  rank^  or  in  the  middle  classes  equally.  In 
England,  however,  one  must  conform  to  the  established 
custom,  although  it  is  much  to  be  wished  that  in  the  classes 
who  can  set  the  example,  the  French  usage  should  be 
Adopted.  A lace  dress  over  silk  is  generally  worn  in  Eng- 
land>  The  lace  should  be  of  the  finest  quality.  Brus- 
icls  or  Honiton  is  the  most  delicate  and  becoming  the  veil 
should  be  of  the  same  sort  of  lace  as  the  dress.  A wreath 
of  roses  and  orange  flowers  is  worn  round  the  head,  not 
confining  the  veil.  The  silk  ought  to  be  plain  ; glace.  n<rf 


WEDDING-GARMENTS. 


42t 

motre^  if  the  bride  be  young,  as  the  latter  is  coo  heavy  • 
if  she  is  no  longer  young,  nothing  is  so  becoming  as  noir4 
silk,  either  white  or  silver  grey.  Widows  and  ladies  no\ 
young  are  usually  married  in  bonnets,  which  should  be  >f 
the  most  elegant  description,  trimmed  with  flowxrs  ji 
feathers,  according  to  the  taste  of  the  wearer. 

The  gentleman’s  dress  should  differ  little  from  his  full 
morning  costume.  The  days  are  gone  by  when  gentlemen 
were  married — as  a recently  deceased  friend  of  mine  was 
— in  white  satin  breeches  and  waistcoat.  In  these  days 
men  show  less  joy  in  their  attire  at  the  fond  consummation 
of  their  hopes,  and  more  in  their  faces.  A dark-blue 
frock-coat — black  being  superstitiausly  considered  ominous 
— a white  waistcoat,  and  a pair  of  light  trousers,  suffice 
for  the  “ happy  man.”  The  nock-tie  also  should  be  light 
and  simple.  Polished  boots  are  not  amiss,  though  plain 
ones  are  better.  The  gloves  must  be  as  white  as  the  linen. 
Both  are  typical — for  in  these  days  types  are  as  important 
as  under  the  Hebrew  lawgivers — of  the  purity  of  mind 
and  heart  which  are  supposed  to  exist  in  their  wearer. 
Eheu  ! after  all,  he  cannot  be  too  well  dressed,  for  the 
more  gay  he  is  the  greater  the  compliment  to  his  bride. 
Flowers  in  the  button-hole  and  a smile  on  the  face  show 
the  bridegroom  to  be  really  a happy  man.” 

As  soon  as  the  carriages  are  at  the  door,  those  brides- 
maids, who  happen  to  be  in  the  house,  and  the  other 
members  of  the  family  set  off  first.  The  bride  goes  last, 
with  her  father  and  mother,  or  with  her  mother  alone,  and 
the  brother  or  relative  who  is  to  represent  her  father  in 
case  of  death  or  absence.  The  bridegroom,  his  friend,  oi 
bridegroom’s  man,  and  the  bridesmaids  ought  to  be  waiting 
m the  church.  The  father  of  the  bride  gives  her  his  arn? 


126 


MARRIAGE 


and  leads  her  to  the  altar.  Here  her  bridesmaids  stand 
near  her,  as  arranged  by  the  clerk,  and  the  bridegroom 
takes  his  appointed  place. 

It  is  a good  thing  for  the  bridegroom’s  man  to  distribute 
the  different  fees  to  the  clergyman  or  clergymen,  the  clei  k 
and  pew-opener,  before  the  arrival  of  the  bride^  as  it  pie 
vents  confusion  afterwards. 

The  bride  stands  to  the  left  of  the  bridegroom,  and 
takes  the  glove  off  her  right  hand,  whilst  he  takes  hia 
glove  off  his  right  hand.  The  bride  gives  her  glove  to  the 
bridesmaid  to  hold,  and  sometimes  to  keep,  as  a good 
omen. 

The  service  then  begins.  During  the  recital,  it  is  cer 
tainly  a matter  of  feeling  how  the  parties  concerned  should 
behave ; but  if  tears  can  be  restrained,  and  a quiet  mod- 
esty in  the  lady  displayed,  and  her  emotions  subdued,  it 
adds  much  to  the  gratification  of  others,  and  saves  a few 
pangs  to  the  parents  from  whom  she  is  to  part. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  this  is  but  the  closing 
scene  of  a drama  of  some  duration — first  the  offer,  then 
the  consent  and  engagement.  In  most  cases  the  marriage 
has  been  preceded  by  acts  which  have  stamped  the  whole 
with  certainty,  although  we  do  not  adopt  the  contract  sys- 
tem of  our  forefathers,  and  although  no  event  in  this  life 
can  be  certain. 

I have  omitted  the  mention  of  the  bouquet,  because  it 
seems  to  me  always  an  awkward  addition  to  the  bride,  and 
that  it  should  be  presented  afterwards  on  her  return  to  the 
breakfast.  Gardenias,  if  in  season,  white  azalia,  or  even 
camellias,  with  very  little  orange  flowers,  fcrm  the  . ridal 
bouquet.  The  bridesmaids  are  dressed,  on  this  occasion, 
BO  as  to  complete  the  pictura  with  effect.  When  there 


THE  BREAKFAST. 


427 


are  six  or  eight,  it  is  usual  for  three  of  them  to  dress  ic 
one  color,  and  three  in  another.  At  some  cf  the  most 
fashionable  weddings  in  London,  the  bridesmaids  weai 
7eils — these  are  usually  of  net  or  tulle  ; white  tarlatan 
Iresses,  over  muslin  or  beautifully-worked  dresses,  an 
caunh  worn,  with  colors  introduced — pink  or  blue,  anl 
scarves  of  those  colors ; and  white  bonnets,  if  bonnets  are 
worn,  trimmed  with  flowers  to  correspond.  These  should 
be  simple,  but  the  flowxrs  as  natural  as  possible,  and  of 
the  finest  quality.  The  bouquets  of  the  bridesmaids  should 
be  of  mixed  flowers.  These  they  may  have  at  church, 
but  the  present  custom  is  for  the  gentlemen  of  the  house 
to  present  them  on  their  return  home,  previous  to  the 
wedding  breakfast. 

The  register  is  then  signed.  The  bride  quits  the 
church  first  w. -h  the  bridegroom,  and  gets  into  his  car- 
riage, and  the  father  and  mother,  bridesmaids,  and  bride- 
groom’s man,  follow  in  order  in  their  own. 

The  breakfast  is  arranged  on  one  or  more  tables,  and  is 
generally  provided  by  a confectioner  when  expense  is  not 
an  objecr. 

Flowers  skilfully  arranged  in  fine  Bohemian  g%ss,  or 
in  epergnes  composed  of  silver,  with  glass-dishes,  are  very 
ornamental  on  each  side  of  the  wedding-cake,  which  stands 
in  the  centre.  When  the  breakfast  is  sent  from  a confec- 
tioner’s, or  is  arranged  in  the  house  by  a professed  cx>k 
the  wedding-cake  is  richly  ornamented  with  flowers,  in 
lugar,  and  a knot  of  orange-flowers  at  tne  top.  At  each 
end  of  the  table  are  tea  and  cofiee.  Soup  is  sometimes 
handed.  Generally  the  viands  are  cold,  consisting  oi 
poultry  or  game,  lobster-salads,  chicken  or  fish  d la  May- 
wjiaisses  hams,  tongues,  potted-meats,  prawns,  and 


428 


MAKRIAGE. 


game-pies  ; raisins,  savory  jellies,  sweets  of  every  desciip 
tion-  -all  cold.  Ice  is  afterwards  handed,  and,  before  the 
healtlis  are  drunk,  the  wedding-cake  is  cut  by  the  nearest 
genth  man  and  handed  round. 

The  father  then  proposes  the  health  of  the  bride  and 
bridegroom.  The  latter  is  expected  to  answer,  and  to 
propose  the  bridegroom’s  man.  The  bridegroom’s  man 
returns  thanks,  and  pledges  the  bridesmaids,  who  answer 
through  the  bridegroom.  All  other  toasts  are  optional, 
but  it  is  de  rigiieur  that  the  health  of  the  clergyman  or 
clergymen  who  tied  the  knot,  if  present,  should  be  drunk. 

After  these  ceremonials  have  been  duly  performed,  and 
ample  justice  has  been  done  to  the  breakfast,  the  bride 
retires^  and  the  company  usually  take  leave  of  her  in  t)ie 
drawing  room  and  depart. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  wedding-breakhist 
is  not  a dinner.^  and  that  the  gentlemen  do  not  stay  be- 
hind to  take  wine  when  the  party  breaks  up  and  the  la- 
dies go  up  stairs. 

A few  words  before  this  sometimes  gay,  sometimes  sad 
scene  is  dismissed. 

The  good  sense  of  several  personages  in  the  higher 
ranks  has  broken  through  the  customary  appearance  ol 
the  bride  at  the  breakfast,  or  indeed  if  she  breakfast  at 
all.  In  France,  the  friends  assembled  to  witness  a wed- 
ding do  not  folbw  the  bride  home.  A ball  or  soiree 
generally  follows  in  the  evening.  Most  people,  one  woukt 
suppose,  would  be  gladly  released  from  the  unnatural  re  • 
past  at  an  unusual  hour ; the  headache  that  makes  tha 
rest  of  the  day  miserable ; the  hurry  of  the  morning  ; the 
lassitude  of  the  afternoon  ; the  tearful,  stumbling  speeches 
of  dear  papa”  after  champagne  ; the  modest,  shy,  broken 


AITEK  tub  event. 


426 


^nicnces  of  the  victimized  bridegroom  ; the  extreme)^’ 
critical  situation  of  his  bachelor  friend,  expected  to  be  in 
love  with  all  the  bridesmaids;  the  sighs  of  the  mother, 
an  3 prognostics  of  maiden  aunts ; the  heat,  the  disgust  to 
those  articles  which  look  so  well  bj  candlelight,  but  do 
aot  bear  daylight — creams,  whips,  jellies,  and  all  tint 
tribe  of  poisons;  and,  worst  of  all,  the  vast  expense  to 
those  who  pay,  and  slight  degree  of  pleasure  to  those  who 
do  not — these  are  among  the  miseries  of  the  w^edding 
breakfast. 

Then  the  peculiar  situation  of  the  bride,  tricked  out 
with  finery  like  the  hoeiif-gras  on  Shrove-Tuesday,  t^very 
one  staring  at  her  to  see  how  she  looks  ; her  sensitive  na- 
ture all  excited  by  the  past  solemnity  ; her  inmost  feelings 
crushed  or  raked  up,  as  may  be,  by  congratulations.  To 
subject  a lady  to  such  torture  seems  an  act  of  cruelty  in 
cold  blood.  Suppose  her  joy  is  too  great  for  utterance 
that  there  has  been  opposition  in  delay,  why  stick  her  up 
on  a pedestal,  so  that  all  may  read  the  emotions  of  that 
throbbing  heart  beneath  its  encasement  of  Brussels  lace  ? 
Suppose  that  heart  does  not  go  along  with  the  joy,  and 
the  compliments  and  the  hopes  of  ever-constant  felicity  ; 

let  the  stricken  deer  go  weep  do  not  parade  what  now 
had  better  be  forgotten.  To  some  heart  in  that  over- 
dressed assembly  of  smiling  friends  there  will  be  a touch, 
in  whatever  is  said,  to  give  pain ; on  occasions  also  wliere 
the  feelings  form  the  actual  theme,  the  less  said  tka 
better. 

The  bride  has,  however,  retired,  and  we  will  follow, 
flar  travelling-dress  is  now  to  be  assum.ed.  This  should 
be  good  in  quality,  but  plain,  like  a handsome  dress  foi 
morning  calls.  An  elegant  bonnet,  not  too  plain,  a hand 


480 


MARRIAGE. 


some  tshawl  or  mantlej  and  colored  gloves,  form  the  suiU 
ble  costume,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  define  the  com- 
ponent parts,  but  we  merely  recommend  that  the  colcr* 
of  the  dress,  and  shawl,  and  bonnet,  should  as  nearly  af 
pcasible  assimilate ; that  the  style  shouli  be  of  the  ver^ 
best,  BO  that  the  impression  left  may  be  suitable,  agrcea 
ble  and  elegant. 

One  more  word  about  fees  to  servants.  These  form  a 
very  varying  point  on  a marriage,  and  depend  on  the  con^ 
dition  in  life  of  the  parties.  A considerable  sum  is  ex- 
pected from  a nobleman,  or  a commoner  of  large  fortune, 
but  a much  more  modest  calculation  for  a professional 
man,  or  a son  whose  father  is  still  living,  and  who  receives 
merely  an  allowance  to  enable  him  to  marry. 

Presents  are  usual,  first  from  the  bridegroom  to  the 
bridesmaids.  Tliese  generally  consist  of  jewelry,  the  de- 
vice of  which  should  be  unique  or  quaint,  the  article 
more  elegant  than  massive.  The  female  servants  of  the 
family,  more  especially  servants  who  have  lived  many 
years  in  their  place,  also  expect  presents,  such  as  gowns 
or  shawls ; or  to  a very  valued  personal  attendant  or 
housekeeper,  a w^atch.  But  on  such  points  discretioc 
must  suggest,  and  liberality  measure  out  the  largesse  oj 
thQ  gift. 


1882. 


1882. 


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San  Miniato— Mrs.  Hamilton i 00 


Miscellaneous  Novels. 


All  For  Her — A Tale  of  New  York,. ^ 

All  For  Him— By  All  For  Her 

For  Each  Other.  Do 

Peccavi— Emma  WencTer 

Conquered — By  a New  Author 

Janet — An  English  novel 

Saint  Leger — Richard  B.  Kimball. 
Was  He  Successful  ? Do.  . 
Undercurrents  of  Wall  St.  Do.  . 
Romance  of  Student  Life.  Do.  . 
To-Day.  Do.  . 

Life  in  Gan  Domingo.  Do.  . 
Henry  Powers,  Banker.  Do.  . 
Baroness  of  N.  Y. -Joaquin  Miller 
One  Fair  Woman.  Do. 

Another  Man’s  Wife — Mrs.  Hartt 
Purple  and  Fine  Linen — Fawcett. 
Pauline’s  Trial^L  D.  Courtney. 
The  Forgiving  Kiss — M.  Loth. 
Flirtation — A West  Point  novel 

Loyal  into  Death 

That  Awful'  Boy 

That  Bridget  of  Ours 

Bitterwood — By  M.  A.  Green. 
Phemie  Frost — Ann  S.  Stephens 
Charette — An  American  novel. 
Fairfax — John  Esten  Cooke... 

Hilt  to  Hilt.  Do.  .. 

Out  of  the  Foam.  Do.  .. 
Hammer  and  Rapier.  Do.  .. 
Vv^arwick — By  M.  T.  Walworth 
Lulu,  Do. 

Hotspur.  Do. 

Stormcliff.  Do. 

Delaplaine.  Do. 

Beverly.  Do. 

Kenneth — Sallle  A.  Brock.. 

Heart  Hungry — Westmoreland 
Clifford  Troupe — Do. 

Silcott  Mill — Maria  D.  Deslonde 
John  Maribel.  Do. 

Love’s  Vengeance 


X 50 

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2 00 

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X 50 
25 
X 50 

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25 

I 00 


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I 00 

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X 

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50 
50 
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75 


CHARLES  DiCKENS’  WORKS. 

A NEW  EDITION. 

I 

Among  the  many  editions  of  the  works  of  this  greatest  oi  • 
English  Novelists,  there  has  not  been  until  now  one  that  entirely  j 
satisfies  the  public  demand. — Without  exception,  they  each  have  ^ 
some  strong  distinctive  objection, — either  the  form  and  dimen- 
sions of  the  volumes  are  unhandy — or,  the  type  is  small  and 
indistinct — or,  the  illustrations  are  unsatisfactory — or,  the  bind 
ing  is  poor — or,  the  price  is  too  high. 

An  entirely  new  edition  is  now^  however,  published  by  G.  W 
Carleton  & Co.,  of  New  York,  which,  in  every  respect,  com- 
pletely satisfies  the  popular  demand. — It  is  known  as 

‘‘Carleton’s  New  Illustrated  Edition.” 

Complete  in  15  Volumes. 

The  size  and  form  is  most  convenient  for  holding, — the  type  is 
entirely  new,  and  of  a clear  and  open  character  that  has  received 
the  approval  of  the  reading  community  in  other  works. 

The  illustrations  are  by  the  original  artists  chosen  by  Charles 
Dickens  himself — and  the  paper,  printing,  and  binding  are  of  an 
attractive  and  substantial  character. 

This  beautiful  new  edition  is  complete  in  15  volumes — at  the 
extremely  reasonable  price  of  $1.50  per  volume,  as  follows  • — 

1.  — PICKWICK  PAPERS  AND  CATALOGUE. 

2.  — OLIVER  TWIST. — UNCOMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER. 

3.  — DAVID  COPPERFIELD. 

4.  — GREAT  EXPECTATIONS. — ITALY  AND  AMERICA 

5.  — DOMBEY  AND  SON. 

6.  — BARNABY  RUDGE  AND  EDVTIN  DROOD. 

7.  — NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

8. — CURIOSITY  SHOP  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 

9.  — BLEAK  HOUSE. 

10.  — LITTLE  DORRIT. 

11.  — MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

12. -^UR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

13.  — CHRISTMAS  BOOKS. — ^TALE  OF  TWO  CITIES. 

14.  — SKETCHES  BY  BOZ  AND  HARD  TIMES. 

15. — child's  ENGLAND  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 

The  first  volume — Pickwick  Papers — contains  an  alphabetical 
catalogue  of  all  of  Charles  Dickens'  writings,  with  their  cxjrt 
positions  in  the  volumes. 

This  edition  is  sold  by  Booksellers,  everywhere — and  single 
specimen  copies  will  be  forwarded  by  postage  free^  on  re- 
ceipt of  price,  $1.50,  by 

G.  W.  CARLETON  & CO.,  Publishers, 

Madison  Square,  New  York. 


Mrs.  Mary  J.  Holmes*  Works» 


TEMPEST  AND  SUNSHINE. 
ENGLISH  ORPHANS. 
HOMESTEAD  ON  HILLSIDE. 
»LENA  RIVERS. 

MEADOW  BROOK. 

DORA  DEANE. 

COUSIN  MAUDE. 

MARIAN  GREY. 

EDITH  LYLE.  . 

DAISY  THORNTON.  rJ^e7uJ. 


DARKNESS  AND  DAYLIGHT. 
HUGH  WORTHINGTON. 
CAMERON  PRIDE. 

ROSE  MATHER. 

ETHLLYN’S  MISTAKE. 
MILLBANK. 

EDNA  BROWNING. 

WEST  LAWN. 

MILDRED. 

'^FORREST  HOUSE.  \(Ne7v), 


OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 

'•Mrs.  Holmes*  stories  are  universally  read.  Her  admirers  are  numberless. 
She  is  in  many  respects  without  a rival  in  the  world  of  fiction.  Her  characters  are 
always  life-like,  and  she  makes  them  talk  and  act  like  human  beings,  subject  to  the 
same  emotions,  swayed  by  the  same  passions,  and  actuated  by  the  same  motives 
which  are  common  among  men  and  women  of  every  day  existence.  Mrs.  Holmes 
is  very  happy  in  portraying  domestic  life.  Old  and  young  peruse  her  stories 
with  great  delight,  for  she  writes  in  a style  that  all  can  comprehend.’* — Ne7u 
York  Weekly. 


The  North  American  Review,  vol.  8i,  page  557,  says  of  Mrs.  Mary  J. 
Holmes’  novel,  “English  Orphans”: — “With  this  novel  of  Mrs.  Holmes’  we  have 
been  charmed,  and  so  have  a pretty  numerous  circle  of  discriminating  readers  to 
whom  we  have  lent  it.  The  characterization  is  exquisite,  especially  so  far  as 
concerns  rural  and  village  life,  of  which  there  are  some  pictures  that  deserve  to 
be  hung  up  in  perpetual  memory  of  types  of  humanity  fast  becoming  extinct  The 
dialogues  are  generally  brief,  pointed,  and  appropriate.  The  plot  seems  simple, 
so  easily  and  naturally  is  it  developed  and  consummated.  Moreover,  th«i  story 
thus  gracefully  constructed  and  written,  inculcates  without  obtruding,  not  only 
pure  Christian  morality  in  general,  but,  with  especial  point  and  power,  the  depen- 
dence of  true  success  on  character,  and  of  true  respectability  on  merit.” 

“Mrs.  Holmes’  stories  are  all  of  a domestic  character,  and  their  Interest  there- 
fore, is  not  so  intense  as  if  they  were  more  highly  seasoned  with  sensationalism, 
but  it  is  of  a healthy  and  abiding  character.  Almost  any  new  book  which  her 
publisher  might  choose  to  announce  from  her  pen  would  get  an  immediate  and 
general  reading.  The  interest  in  her  tales  begins  at  once,  and  is  maintained  to 
the  close.  Her  sentiments  are  so  sound,  her  sympathies  so  warm  and  ready, 
and  her  knowledge  of  manners,  character,  and  the  vraried  incidents  of  ordinary 
life  is  so  thorough,  that  she  would  find  it  difficult  to  write  any  other  than  an 
txcellent  tale  if  she  were  to  try  it.” — Boston  Banner. 

The  volumes  are  all  handsomely  printed  and  bound  in  cloth,  sold  every 
where,  and  sent  by  mail,  postage  free^  on  receipt  of  price  [$1.50  each],  by 

G.  W.  CARLETON  & CO.,  Publishers, 

Madison  Square^  New  York. 


mi^eRVATION  REVIEW 




